


Not Quite(What Meets the Eye)

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [62]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (more like perceived homophobia? It's not exactly there), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Roommates, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Oblivious Bucky Barnes, Oblivious Steve Rogers, they're a couple of oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:12:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: It's kind of a special feeling, coming home for the first time to hisown place. His andSteve'sown place. A little thrill passes through Bucky when he turns his key in the lock. It's been a long time coming, truly. Rooming together in the college dorm was one thing, but this. Feels like they've been waiting their whole damn lives for this.





	Not Quite(What Meets the Eye)

It's kind of a special feeling, coming home for the first time to his _own place_. His and _Steve's_ own place. A little thrill passes through Bucky when he turns his key in the lock. It's been a long time coming, truly. Rooming together in the college dorm was one thing, but this. Feels like they've been waiting their whole damn lives for this.

Steve isn't home yet, but that's to be expected; his last class on a Monday always runs late. It's not a problem. It gives Bucky a chance to get a little better acquainted with the place. They moved in on Saturday and were immediately overrun by their friends, which resulted in them spending much of Sunday hungover and cleaning up. Now, Bucky takes his time to look around, peering past the boxes that are still stacked up along one wall and the vaguely grubby tiles in the bathroom until all he can see is a home. _Their_ home. Finally.

When Steve gets in half an hour later, Bucky's in the kitchen with dinner almost ready. "Hey dollface!" he calls once the door has slammed shut and the lock has clicked into place. "How was your day?"

Steve groans dramatically, and there's two thumps by the door - Steve's shoes - and then a louder one accompanied by furious Gaelic. "We need to do something with this table," Steve calls into the kitchen. "It blends into the damn wall!"

"You're colour blind, not actually blind," Bucky shoots back, but he turns to give Steve a serious look. "You really can't see it?"

"Would I be complaining about it if I could?" Steve retorts, shuffling over into the kitchen and hooking his chin over Bucky's shoulder to take a sniff. "That smells good."

Bucky grins and reaches up to ruffle Steve's hair. There was a time when Bucky missed the little guy Steve used to be, but now he kind of likes that Steve has a good inch on him. "It's not much," he says. "Those assholes basically cleaned us out on Saturday. One of us needs to hit the store tomorrow."

Steve makes a thoughtful noise, giving Bucky a hug before he pulls away and meanders over to the kitchen table. "I can," he offers. "I've got classes in the morning, but I'm free in the afternoon."

"You sure?" Bucky asks, because he still can't help himself. "It's quite a walk."

Steve only rolls his eyes, smile fond. "I'm sure," he says. "I know what my new limits are, Bucky, and I'll take an inhaler just to be safe."

"All right," Bucky says, also smiling. "Set the, uhh, coffee table? This is about done."

Steve snickers, obligingly fetching a couple of plates and forks. "We are really living the dream here," he teases. "Eating off the coffee table in our apartment."

Bucky makes a kissy face at him. "One day we'll be able to afford all the nice things, darlin'. Solid oak table, crystal wine glasses, you name it."

"Big old fancy kiln for my shop?" Steve gasps, hand clutching an imaginary string of pearls. 

Bucky grins. "Anything you want," he promises. "But you'll be getting cold food if you don't move your ass."

"You love my ass," Steve retorts, giving a shimmy and shaking said ass as he turns towards the living room. "And that's why we have a microwave," he calls back over his shoulder. 

"Microwave spaghetti," Bucky huffs, turning the burner off so he can begin to dish up. "I fucking dare you. Disgusting."

"Hey, we're college students, remember? Can't afford to be picky."

Bucky sets a plate down in front of Steve with just enough force to make the fork beside it rattle and gives him a snide look. "Then shut up and eat."

Steve just pokes Bucky in the ribs, right where Bucky's ticklish, and digs in. "Put some Netflix on or something," he says after he's swallowed his first bite. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, but reaches for the TV remote. "Yes _sir._ "

* * *

Steve does indeed go grocery shopping the next day - without needing to use his inhaler, thank you very much, Bucky - and that Thursday night finds their apartment invaded yet again by their friends. Fewer this time, thank God, but it's still Nat and Sam, who could easily eat what's left of their groceries. "Could you two try making a little more noise coming up the stairwell?" Steve asks, rolling his eyes as he kneads some clay. "I don't think they could hear you on the other side of Manhattan."

"All your neighbors are deaf, Steve," Sam points out, giving Steve a grin and a sideways hug. "Or so nosy they already knew we were coming when we pulled onto the street."

"Hey," Bucky protests, "Mrs Harrison upstairs is great, don't trash-talk our neighbours."

Natasha smirks. "Have you met any of the others yet?"

"Well, no," Bucky admits. "She just dropped by to give us a welcome-to-the-building casserole."

"Then you can't say we're trash-talking, can you?" Sam counters, laughing when Steve flicks a small ball of clay at his face.

"Is there a reason you two came over?" he asks. "Bucky, hand me that bowl of water, will you?"

"We just wanted to say hi," Natasha answers while Bucky does as he's told. "See how cohabitation's treating you."

Bucky shoots her a quizzical look. "We've been living together for years."

"Yeah, but this is an _apartment,_ " Sam says, raising an eyebrow and giving the two of them a significant look. "It's serious business, renting an apartment together."

Bucky shrugs. "We've been waiting for this since we were kids," he says. "We're ready."

Sam's smile says he knows something Steve and Bucky don't. "Of course; that's a long time to be together."

Bucky gives Steve a smile that's almost unsure. "We've always been in each other's pockets, huh?"

"Yep," Steve agrees absently, frowning in concentration as he kneads out a few stubborn air bubbles. "Started when we were what, eight? Old enough that our parents let us have sleepovers."

Natasha laughs. "Seriously?" she demands. "I had no idea. How can you still stand the sight of each other?"

Bucky frowns at her. "Steve's always been my best guy."

"Still," she presses, "eight's pretty young."

Bucky shrugs. "When you know, you know."

"We just clicked," Steve agrees, "Oh, hell - Bucky, do you remember where I put the sculpting thingamajig?"

Bucky rolls his eyes fondly. "It's on your dresser," he says. "You'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on."

Steve makes a face at Bucky, the two of them missing the amused glances Sam and Nat exchange. "Would you fetch it, please? I'm kind of covered in wet clay, right now."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh my god," he groans, but he's getting to his feet. "I hate you so much."

"That wasn't even a little convincing," Natasha calls after him; he flips her the bird without looking back.

Steve and Sam share a grin before Bucky returns, Steve accepting the proffered tool with a syrupy-sweet, "Thanks, babe."

"Fuck you," Bucky grouses back, the words affectionate despite himself.

Natasha's the one to roll her eyes now. "You two are disgusting."

Steve grins, gesturing with his tool. "There's the door if you can't handle it," he laughs.

* * *

Biting his lip, Steve glances at the clock. Bucky's only been gone for ten minutes, but he's already lonely. They've been living in this apartment for less than a month, but Steve's grown so used to Bucky's presence over the past years that it's difficult to be alone, now. He hesitates for another moment before he picks up his phone, dialing a number and holding it to his good ear. When it picks up, he's greeted with a blast of classic rock - Def Leppard, sounds like - that makes him wince. "Tony?"

"What?" The music shuts off a second later, and Tony tries again. "Steve, hey! What's up?"

"Are you busy tonight?" Steve asks, deciding to skip beating around the bush. "Bucky's left, and I could use some company."

"What?" Tony demands again, sharper this time. "What do you mean, he's _left?_ Christ, Steve, of course I can come over. Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah?" Steve says, a bit confused. "I'm just a bit lonely, that's all. Used to him being here."

"Well of course you are," Tony huffs. "Shit. Are you sure I'm the person you want over? I could send Pepper."

Steve can't help but laugh at that. "Tony, you and I both know Pepper and I don't have a lot in common. It would just be awkward if she came over here by herself. If you're busy, you can just say so, you know. I won't judge you if you've procrastinated on _another_ project."

"No," Tony says quickly. "No, if you want me to come over, I will. Give me half an hour, okay?"

"Okay," Steve says, now thoroughly bemused. "Knock when you get here, I'll let you in."

* * *

Tony does just that, and all but barges into the apartment when Steve opens the door. "What the fuck, Rogers?" he demands. "He left all of his shit here? When is he coming back for it? Do you want to burn it?"

Steve blinks in confusion. "Uh, no? I'm not _that_ bored," he says. "And of course he's coming back, it's not like we had a huge fight or anything."

"But you said that he left!"

"Yes? He's out for the evening, Tony. Said he was going to meet up with a friend from work for a date."

"Oh my god." Tony looks like he's about ready to sag to the ground in relief. "Oh my god! Rogers! I thought he'd left _you_!"

Steve can't help but laugh at that. "Tony, if he'd actually left _me,_ I'd be a blubbering mess right now."

"I did think you were handling it weirdly well," Tony concedes. "Okay then. Mental recalibration complete. You wanna order pizza?"Steve shakes his head fondly, used to Tony's... Well, his everything by now. "Sure. You want me to get your usual?"

"Yeah, and some of that cake, too," Tony answers, already sauntering over to the couch. "I'm taking over Netflix."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Of course you are," he mutters, dialling the number for the pizza place down the block. Once he's placed the order, he wanders over to the couch and nudges Tony. "This is still my couch, so budge over."

Tony laughs, but makes room for Steve to sit down. "Not that I'm complaining, but why are you scraping the barrel with me instead of going out with Barnes?"

”He likes to go out a lot,” Steve says, shrugging. “I’m a lot more of a homebody, I guess. Nowhere near as social, and Bucky likes to meet new people.”

"But doesn't it bother you?" Tony asks. "Him going out so much?"

Steve shrugs. "I mean, we grew up together, so I'm used to having him to myself. But he always comes back, so no. It doesn't really bother me when he goes out, besides getting a little lonely sometimes."

"You should tell him," Tony says seriously. "I bet he wouldn't act like that if he knew it makes you feel like shit."

"I wouldn't say 'like shit,'" Steve says, but it's too absent to be a protest. Normally he wouldn't even consider Tony's suggestion, but... Maybe he's right, maybe Steve should say something. 

"What would you be doing if I wasn't here right now?" Tony challenges. "Enjoying a nice evening by yourself? Or moping?"

"Probably this with a side of moping," Steve admits. 

"Then tell him!" Tony insists. "You've always been his top priority. If he knows it's affecting you, he'll stop."

"Maybe," Steve says slowly, a bit reluctantly. Steve's never wanted to say anything before because how do you tell your best friend that you are quite possibly in love with him and that you would rather he go on those dates with you? You don't, really, especially not when you've never seen him go on a date with another guy. Still, to get Tony off his back, Steve promises, "I'll think about it."

"Good," Tony says, smiling. "You do that."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve grumbles good-naturedly, then gives Tony a pointed look. "Are you done poking your nose into my business, or do you have some more invasive questions to ask?"

"Nope," Tony says, grinning. "I'm done."

"Good. Now put something good on, for Christ's sake. _Bee Movie_ isn't that interesting."

* * *

Bucky gets home just after midnight. It's a bit early by his standards, but he just wasn't feeling it tonight; maybe he's going soft, but he'd rather be at home. With Steve.

Steve, who is still up when Bucky gets through the door. It's not a surprise, but the way Steve is stood like he's been waiting for him kind of is. Bucky locks the door behind him and smiles. "Saw Stark on the way out. You getting desperate or something?"

Steve snorts. "No," he says, then hesitates. "Maybe." He _did_ listen to and even seriously consider Tony's advice, after all.

Bucky laughs. "Well, I'm far too sober for how much I've drunk tonight. Feel like sinking to even lower depths and having a beer with me before we turn in?"

Steve blows a breath, smiles. "Sure."

Bucky grins and heads over to the fridge, talking over his shoulder as he goes. "How is Tony? Did you have a good night?"

"It was fine," Steve answers, following Bucky. "We had pizza, watched Netflix, talked a bit."

"Yeah?" Bucky asks. He passes Steve a beer without removing his head from the fridge, and then emerges with his own beer and a block of cheese. "What about?"

"Stuff," Steve says vaguely as he opens his beer. After Bucky passes him a slice of cheese, he takes a breath and elaborates, "Like how I don't - " Abruptly, his courage fails him, and Steve fumbles out, " - don't care for being left behind."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Even a long draught of beer doesn't restore any of Steve's courage. "I mean, it'd be - nice, I suppose, to be able to go out with you a bit more."

"Oh," Bucky says. He grins. "If you've been getting lonely without me, you just needed to say."

"Well," Steve says, picking at the label on his beer. "I'm saying it now."

"Hey," Bucky says, frowning. "How long has this been a thing?"

Steve quietly panics. "Uh... A while?" he hedges. 

"Christ. Why didn't you just tell me?"

The panicking increases in intensity, and Steve does his best to hide it. "Because I didn't know how to bring it up," he tries.

"Well that's dumb," Bucky says, shaking his head. "You can talk to me about anything, Stevie. Especially something as easily fixed as this."

"'Easily fixed?'" Steve echoes, heart hammering away in his chest.

"'Course it is," Bucky says. "You can come out with me whenever you want. And I bet we can hook you up with someone."

Steve' heart all but trips over itself, and he has to look away, swallowing his disappointment. _What were you expecting?_ he chides himself as he pretends to consider Bucky's suggestion. _You chickened out._ After a moment, he looks up and gives Bucky the most convincing smile he can manage. "That sounds great, Buck."

Bucky, oblivious to Steve's inner turmoil, just grins. "How about tomorrow night?"

Steve blinks, but then makes himself smile. "Yeah, sure. Sure you can get another date so soon?" he teases. 

"Sweetheart, they'll be falling all over themselves to get to you," Bucky says confidently. "I won't even have to try."

That's not exactly what Steve wants to hear, but he laughs anyway, because that's what they do. "Yeah, right - maybe climbing over _me_ to get to _you,_ " he teases. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. "I'm not that popular," he says. "Not among the people I'm actually interested in, anyway." He sighs and drains what's left of his beer. "Come on, finish that. You ready for bed or do you want another?"

"Nah, I'm done," Steve says, draining the last of his beer. 

Bucky shrugs and reaches for Steve's bottle. "Go get your beauty sleep, princess."

* * *

"Oh my god, what are you doing here?" Bucky demands as soon as he walks through the door. He really had no intention of moving today, but Steve has been anxious all day, near wearing a hole in their carpet with his fretting, so Bucky finally caved and went out to the liquor store in the hope of calming his nerves before their big night out. Still, he can't have been gone for more than fifteen minutes, so this is a bit of a shock.

"Honestly, James, is that any way to speak to your mother?"

Bucky manages to laugh as he stoops to hug his mom, his eyes widening at Steve over her shoulder. "Hi Mom," he offers at last. "Where's Dad?"

"Parking the car, he'll be along in a minute." Winifred Barnes pulls back to scrutinise her son, much in the same way as she scrutinised Steve a few moments earlier. She frowns when she notices the bag in his hand. "James. It's two o'clock in the afternoon!"

"It's not like we're going to be drinking it right this minute," Steve protests, taking the bag from Bucky and heading for the kitchen. "Besides, we're grown adults, we can make our own decisions. Don't try to tell me _you_ never started drinking early in the day when you were nervous about something?"

"What I have and haven't done is none of your business, Steve Rogers," Winifred says archly, but she's smiling. "What has he got to be nervous about?"

Bucky grins. "Big night out tonight," he confides. "But you haven't answered my question yet. What are you doing here? We only moved back up to school a few weeks ago, you can't miss us already."

"Of course we miss you," Winifred says seriously. "And we had to see your new place, didn't we? Make sure you haven't killed each other yet."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Ma."

"If we were going to kill each other, it would've been in freshman year," Steve laughs. "Remember how small _that_ dorm was?"

"Ah, but you're grown, now," Winifred says wisely. "This is where the real test begins."

Steve shares a bemused glance with Bucky. "I suppose being out away from campus for the most part is pretty different," he allows. 

Winifred sighs, but she's beaming at them. "You'll get there," she says with confidence that neither of them understand. "I have every faith in the pair of you."

The front door opens behind Bucky, then, providing enough distraction that Winifred's words slip from his mind. He smiles. "Hey Dad. Mom says you've been missing me."

”Of course we have,” George says easily. “You’re our kid; you lived with us for eighteen years, it’s still weird not having you around. Not that you were in the house every day, I suppose.”

Steve laughs. “And when he was, I was,” he chimes in. 

"We love you both equally, Steve," Winifred assures him, shooting George a quelling look. "With how much you and Bucky mean to each other, how could we not? You've been a part of our family since you were this high."

Steve flushes, but smiles at Winifred just the same. "Well, thank you. That means a lot to me. I know my mom feels the same about Bucky."

Bucky grins. "Well," he says, "I know you didn't just come out here to look around and leave. Should we go out or something?"

George grins. "As a matter of fact, there's a place down the street I was hoping to try," he suggests. 

Steve laughs. "Well, lead on. There's a few shops I need to visit, run some errands."

Winifred smiles. "Of course, dear," she says. "We'll get something to eat, and then we'll follow you, okay?"

Steve nods, and Bucky gestures to the door. "Then let's go."

* * *

The afternoon is pleasant enough, if a little awkward at times, and everyone is in good spirits when they get back to the apartment. Bucky expects his parents to start making noises about going home, now that everyone's well fed and caught up and their accommodation has passed inspection, but instead his mother decides it's time to make things weird again.

"Are you still coming over for Christmas, Steve?" Winifred asks, her smile a little too warm. "With your mom?"

"Uh, we were planning on it," Steve says, looking up from where he'd been reading over the instructions for a new sculpting tool. "Weather permitting."

Winifred's expression softens further still. "You don't have to make up excuses, you know," she says. "If you and James want to spend the holiday together, we'll all understand. And Sarah will still be welcome, or course."

At that, Steve frowns, glancing over at Bucky. "Were _you_ planning on staying here over Christmas?"

"Um," Bucky says, "no? I don't think so." He gives his mom a quizzical look. "We always come home for Christmas."

"But you don't have to," Winifred says. "You're all grown up now. It's okay if you want to do these things for yourselves."

Bucky blinks. "Do you not want us to come?"

"No, of course not!" George hastens to reassure them, but he's almost _too_ eager, Steve thinks. "You're both welcome any time, you know that. We love having you visit together."

Bucky laughs. "Then what's this all about?"

"It doesn't matter," Winifred says. "If you're not ready then you're not ready. Of course we'd love to have you for Christmas. Just as long as you know that when you are ready, it's okay with us."

"O...kay?" Steve says, feeling more than a little confused, but he doesn't say anything. He'll just talk about it with Bucky later; Steve's mom is usually the weird one, not Bucky's parents. "Well, we're still planning on coming for Christmas, but we haven't exactly gotten any Christmas shopping done. Buck, did we bring those decorations from the dorm?"

"Think they're still in a box somewhere," Bucky says, raising an eyebrow. "We've got a while yet, Stevie."

Steve shrugs. "There you go, no need for us to be ready for the Christmas holidays, yet."

George and Winifred share a look before George chuckles. "Of course; we didn't mean to push. Just... got a bit excited for the holidays, is all."

"You know I like to plan ahead," Winifred says. "I just thought I'd get it out there, is all. And of course, if you change your minds--"

Bucky cuts her off with a fond chuckle. "Ma," he says, "we're coming home for Christmas."

Winifred smiles. "Okay. Good."

* * *

Thankfully, they leave not too long after that, and Bucky wastes no time in grabbing the booze he bought earlier and shoving Steve into his room to get ready. Two hours later and he's shoving Steve through the door of a heaving bar, and telling him to get the first round in before disappearing into the crowd. He finds Steve in a booth after a few minutes, a gorgeous girl on each arm.

"Steve," Bucky says, grinning, "meet Martha and Kayla. Girls, this is my very best guy."

Steve waves at them, a short thing that leaves him feeling more awkward than ever. "Hi," he offers. "It's nice to meet you."

If Bucky notices, it doesn't show; he just slides into the booth next to Steve, Kayla following Bucky while Martha sits on Steve's other side. "He's just a little shy," Bucky tells them, and pats Steve's knee. "Get a few drinks down you, Stevie, and you'll be fine."

"Yeah, Stevie," Martha says warmly. "I'll look after you, don't worry."

Steve’s grin is tight, but he doesn’t comment on how he only lets Bucky call him that. “I’m sure you will,” he says instead, taking a sip of his drink and praying the alcohol will get to work quickly. 

* * *

"So," Bucky says, swinging one arm out towards Steve as they saunter down the street. It's been a good few years, but Bucky still forgets, still expects Steve to fit right under his arm, especially when he's had a few. Instead of his shoulders, though, Bucky's arm ends up going around Steve's back, his hand coming to grip awkwardly at Steve's arm. He rolls with it. "Did you have a good night? I think Martha really liked you."

Steve lets himself drift closer to Bucky, chuckling at his friend's antics. "Yeah, she was nice," he allows. "But I don't know, Buck. We didn't really talk a lot."

"You _danced_ a lot," Bucky says. "Didn't you?"

Steve snorts. "For a given value of 'dancing,'" he mutters. "You know I've got two left feet."

"You tried," Bucky says, a little too earnest. "That's all that matters."

Steve laughs at that. "Babe, I think Martha's feet would beg to differ. I'm pretty sure I stepped on her several times."

Bucky tells himself it's only the cold making him shiver. "Well, time will tell. Did you swap numbers?"

"No," Steve admits sheepishly. "I never asked, she never offered."

This news startles a laugh out of Bucky. "Shit," he says. "It really has been a while, hasn't it? You want me to ask Kayla?"

"Nah," Steve says, shrugging lightly so as not to dislodge Bucky's hand, which is still on his arm. "It's fine. I didn't really hit it off with either of them."

"I'm sorry, Steve," Bucky sighs. "Better luck next time, right?"

Steve shrugs half-heartedly. "Yeah, sure."

"Hey," Bucky says, bumping into Steve a little. "Hey, what?"

"I just - You know how I get around strangers," Steve says, alcohol and Bucky's warmth loosening his tongue. "I just like being friends with someone before I go trying to date them."

"So you want like a mate date?" Bucky asks, trying to keep up. "Like coffee or a movie and dinner? We can do that."

"I... guess?" Steve hedges. 

"I bet Martha would love that," Bucky offers, feeling more awkward by the second. "You should let me ask Kayla for her number."

Steve rolls his eyes. "We didn't hit it off," he reminds Bucky. "It's fine, Bucky, really. I'm not exactly starving for affection, here." He winds his own arm around Bucky's waist before bumping hips with him purposefully, a smile on his face.

Bucky grins, loosening up once more. "Come on," he says. "Why don't we see if that pizza place is still open before we get home?"

"I could go for some pizza," Steve agrees, following beside Bucky as Bucky changes course.

* * *

Clint frowns, tapping the butt of his pen thoughtfully against the table as he scrutinizes his study-buddy. "You look worried," he decides after a moment, reaching one leg out under the table to nudge Bucky's foot. "What's up with that face? Steve sick?"

Bucky snorts. "Nah," he says. "Don't think Steve's been sick since last winter. He's fine."

"Well, something's bugging you," Clint reasons. "You've got that weird frown going on, the one that makes you look like a brooding superhero." 

"Fuck off," Bucky laughs. "You don't know me, Barton."

"Bro, we've been in classes together for the past three semesters," Clint says, grinning. "I know you a little. You got exactly that look last year when Steve was sick, and also when you two were trying to find a decent apartment."

"It's nothing that dire," Bucky promises. "Steve just... I don't know. He's in his head about somethin'."

"He said anything to you about it?"

"Sort of," Bucky says. "I think... I'm not paying him enough attention?"

Clint tilts his head, the pen now flipping deftly between his fingers. "What makes you think that?"

"He basically said so," Bucky answers. "I go out a lot, I guess. Alone, because he never says he wants to go. But he said he feels like I'm leaving him behind."

Clint frowns, humming thoughtfully until the pen slips from his fingers and whacks him in the cheek. Rubbing at the spot, he suggests, "You tried taking him out with you?"

Bucky huffs a laugh, nods. "We went out with a couple of girls I know, but he barely spoke to either of them or me."

"Well, maybe he wants to go out with just you," Clint suggests. 

Bucky gives him a quizzical look. "You think so?"

”When’s the last time the two of you hung out together outside of your apartment?” Clint counters. “I get that you two have basically lived in each other’s pockets since you were in diapers, but going out together is still more fun sometimes than just hanging out at home.”

"I guess," Bucky says slowly. "You really think it could be that simple?"

”Won’t know until you try, but yeah. I think that could be it,” Clint answers, giving Bucky an encouraging smile. 

Bucky hums, sits back in his seat. "Guess it can't hurt to try."

”Worst case scenario, the two of you just have a pleasant evening out,” Clint points out. “So no, I doubt it would. Now quit panicking about your relationship with your roommate and help me figure out what the fuck was going on with Napoleon when he decided to invade Russia in winter.”

* * *

Steve has already agreed to let Bucky drag him out again the following weekend, so all it takes is for Bucky to send a few apologetic texts to get them the evening to themselves. Steve seems surprised but pleased when Bucky takes them to the local cinema instead of another club, and they actually have a really nice time. It certainly appears to have done the trick; Steve's smiling again when they come out of the movie, looking more at ease than he has for days, and Bucky's glad, he really is. Only the whole thing has left Bucky with an itch under his skin, an energy bordering on anxiety that he just can't spend with Steve, no matter how much he tries.

So he waits until Steve's gone to bed, and then he goes out. There's no girl on his arm this time, and he doesn't really know what he's looking for - just that he needs to be gone. He winds up in a place just down the street from the one he took Steve, Martha and Kayla to last week, and sits at the bar nursing a beer without any real expectation. He doesn't even notice someone has sat down beside him until he hears a warm, deep voice order a Jack and coke and then ask if he can get Bucky another.

Bucky looks up into a smiling face, and finds himself smiling back despite himself. Maybe this is what he's looking for. "Yeah," he says, "that'd be great. Thanks. I'm James."

"Mark," the man returns, flashing Bucky a grin as the bartender passes over their drinks. "You looked pretty deep in thought, there."

"Yeah," Bucky says again, a hand coming up of its own volition to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Just off in my own world, I guess."

"Well, if you'd like a distraction, I'd be more than happy to oblige," Mark offers. 

Bucky finds his smile a little easier this time. "I think I'd like that."

* * *

Bucky doesn't get home until late afternoon, and when he does he barely looks up from his phone long enough to say hi to Steve. As such, it takes him a little while to notice that Steve is watching him, but when he finally catches on he raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"You seem distracted," Steve says with a meaningful glance at Bucky's phone. "New friend?"

"What? Oh." Bucky glances down at his phone, and then guiltily back up at Steve. "Nah, it's just Nat."

Steve's eyebrow climbs even as his heart plummets. "Oh? Looks like an... interesting conversation."

"Yeah," Bucky says, unable to help the way he flushes when the next text comes through. "Yeah, she's great."

Steve feels a bit sick, but he forces a smile anyway. "Well, that's great. I've got a commission to go work on, so I'll probably be busy for the rest of the day." 

"All right," Bucky agrees easily. He looks up again and gives Steve a soft smile. "Have fun."

Steve's own smile is somewhat weak. "Thanks."

* * *

As soon as the door is locked behind him, Steve pulls out his phone. He doesn't care risk a call, not with Bucky still in the apartment, so he pulls up Peggy's number and sends a text. **I'm fucked.**

The answer comes almost immediately. **Literally? Congrats. Took you long enough**

**I fucking wish. No. He's texting Nat and _blushing_**

**Oh. Bollocks.**

**Yeah.** Steve has to take a moment to breathe deeply and blink back the stinging in his eyes before he can continue. **I just... I thought I was getting somewhere? I mean he took me out several times, and that time at the theater... idk I was just starting to think 'maybe'**

 **I'm sorry, love.** is Peggy's response. **But he and Nat have complicated history. It might not last?**

 **Is it bad for me to hope it doesn’t?** Steve sends, then immediately after, **But not really? Like, I just want him happy. I want him happy with me, but I want him happy, period.**

**Of course you do. But you're allowed to be jealous, too. It doesn't make you a bad person.**

**Ugh. Still feel a little bad for thinking that, though. Sorry for bothering you so late, by the way. Didn’t realize how late it would be over there.**

**It's fine. I'm awake, obviously. And I'm always here if you need to talk. Just... do me a favour?**

Steve is abruptly sure that he doesn’t really want to hear what Peggy’s about to say, but he doesn’t even think about not responding. He settles on, **Depends on what it is.**

**You're a menace. Please just think about turning your attentions towards someone who actually likes boys x**

**Believe me, I’ve been trying,** Steve sends back. **But I’ll try harder.**

Peggy's next message takes a little longer to come through. **I know he's important to you. But I love you. I just want you to be kind to yourself x**

**I know, and I love you too xo**

* * *

The next day, when Bucky gets home from work and finds that Steve is still stuck in class, he digs out his phone and makes a call. "Nat," he says as soon as she answers. "I need a favour, and I need you to not ask questions."

Natasha doesn't hesitate. "What do you need?"

"If Steve asks," Bucky says, "and I don't know if he will, but if he does, I need you to say we've been texting and hanging out a lot."

"You've got something up your sleeve," Natasha says, sounds pleased. "Alright, I'll cover for you. But you have to let me know when you're telling him, okay?"

"I will," Bucky promises, relieved. "I just... It's early days, y'know? I want to be sure."

"Of course. It's a big decision to make, and you can't exactly unmake it," Natasha says understandingly. 

"Well, I could, but it'd be messy," Bucky says, smiling. "Either way, I want to be certain before Steve finds out. It's too important to screw up."

"I understand," Natasha reassures him. "Just... don't take so long thinking about this that you talk yourself out of it, okay? I know how you can get stuck in your head sometimes."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but his tone is fond. "Yes, Mom," he teases. "How are you, anyway? You managed to ensnare Clint yet?"

Natasha laughs. "Not yet. There’s a subtitled screening of _The Last Jedi_ playing Christmas Eve. I got us tickets, planning to surprise him with them."

Bucky makes an approving sound. "He'll like that," he says. "Might even swoon."

Natasha sounds very much like she's smirking. "Oh, he definitely will. He's been complaining for years about how that theater never does subtitled screenings. I... _may_ have had a word with the manager. Me and several other people, I mean."

Bucky laughs. "You never cease to amaze me, Nat. Never change."

* * *

When Bucky leaves the next night, Steve hesitates for only a few minutes before he pulls out his phone. **Hey, Nat? Got any plans for tonight?**

**Think Barnes is coming over. Why?**

**Just checking; Bucky said he was going out. Seems to be doing that a lot lately.**

**If it bothers you you can say something. But we're just hanging out. You should come with him sometimes.**

**Nah, it doesn't bother me,** Steve replies, thankful he's not doing this conversation face to face. At least this way he has a chance of getting away with the lie. **Was just wondering if you two were doing anything particularly interesting, but if you're just sitting around braiding each other's hair I don't think I have enough of my own to join lol**

**Your loss!**

* * *

The next week, Mark's already waiting for Bucky at a table in the bar they usually meet up at. He's clearly nervous, leg bouncing under the table, and when Bucky finally arrives, the smile Mark gives him doesn't seem to quite reach his eyes. "Hey."

Bucky's answering smile is more genuine but even less confident. "Hey," he says. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just nervous because..." Mark stops to take a deep breath, then somehow manages to keep his voice steady as he says, "Look, I really like the sex - don't get me wrong - but I also really like _you._ "

"Oh." Warmth blossoms in Bucky's chest, and he grins. "Is that all? Mark, I really like you too."

Mark's posture relaxes. "Oh, good. So, what would you say to, uh, maybe making this a little more serious than just sex?"

Bucky's grin widens. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"Depends," Mark hedges. "Are you saying yes?"

This time, Bucky hesitates. "You know I'm not out," he says. "I'm not saying I never will be, but is that an issue?"

Mark shakes his head. "No; I understand not coming out right away. Took me a long time to do it with my family. I don't mind taking things slow and quiet, if that's what you want."

Bucky's smile returns to him. "Then yes," he says. "I'd love to date you."

"Really? Great!" Mark says, beaming as he seems to relax for the first time that evening. "Do you maybe want to go see a movie? There's a couple things playing at the theater down the street that seem interesting."

* * *

Bucky clearly has something on his mind, but he doesn't say anything to Steve for the next several days. Steve knows better than to push when Bucky's jittery like this, when he looks like he feels too small for his skin, so he waits. 

When he comes home one night to find dinner already on the table, he knows Bucky's finally ready to talk. "Any particular occasion I should know about?" he asks mildly. "You pulled out your grandmother's meatball recipe."

"You don't know my life," Bucky fires back, quick as a shot. "Maybe I was just hungry for something other than microwave pizza."

Steve laughs. "That's a valid reason," he agrees. "Did you make the sauce or buy it this time?"

The look Bucky gives him is almost guilty. "I made it."

Steve hums, backing off for now and he helps Bucky lay out plates and cutlery. "So," he says, once they're settled with generous helpings on each plate. "You sure there isn't something you want to talk about?"

Bucky rolls his eyes. "You can't let a guy come out with it in his own time?"

"Are you going to _not_ sit over there and worry the whole time about what my reaction is going to be for once?" Steve counters with a gentle smile. 

Bucky groans. "It's big," he says, like he can't quite help himself. "I-- I don't know what you'll think."

"Did you kill someone?" Steve asks, frowning as he pretends to think about it. "That... might be awkward. We just moved in, I don't want to go on the run so soon."

"So you'd come with me?" Bucky asks, smiling as he relaxes a fraction. "Just like that?"

"Well, yeah. You wouldn't kill anyone who didn't deserve it," Steve reasons. "Good enough reason for me to go with you instead of turning you in."

"You could just stay behind," Bucky points out.

"Well, then I'd be a shit friend," Steve returns. "Seriously, though, Bucky - I doubt that there's anything you can say that would make me not be friends with you, or abandon you, or anything else you're thinking."

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes. "It's not that dramatic," he says. "Just different, is all."

"Well at least I don't have to pull out the dramatic playlist," Steve laughs. "It can't possibly be that bad. Did you knock somebody up?"

Bucky laughs. "No," he says. "No, not quite. But I am... seeing. Someone."

"Oh?" Steve asks, ignoring the way his heart just tripped over itself. "Is it serious?"

"Yeah." Bucky wets his lips, something he can't name curdling in his gut. "I-- We want it to be."

Steve considers that for a moment, then gives Bucky a grin. "Well, whenever it does get serious, I want to meet this person."

Bucky smiles, though he's not as relieved as he thought he'd be. "Yeah?"

Steve nods decisively. "Yes. I'm your best friend; I get to give the shovel talk."

Bucky snorts. "Okay, pal. Whatever you want."

* * *

Bucky doesn't notice it for a good few weeks, but things changed between him and Steve that night. In all fairness, they don't really see each other much, which should have been his first clue - but Steve seems so busy with work and class, and Bucky... Well, Bucky's been busy with Mark.

It isn't until Bucky comes home late, this time from actually seeing Natasha, and tries to drape himself all over Steve where he's drawing at the kitchen table, that he realises something is wrong. "Hey," he complains, frowning at Steve's back. He got up as soon as Bucky touched him and is now standing moodily against the sink. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

Steve sighs, trying not to let his shoulders tense as he shrugs. "Just... been working on some difficult commissions, is all. And the supply place I usually use is having problems with their shipping company."

"And all that means I can't give you a hug?" Bucky asks. "Come on, Stevie."

"I know, I know. But it's getting closer to the holiday season, and I'm just... really wound up," he offers; it's not quite a lie, but neither is it the entire truth. 

"Then get your ass over here," Bucky tells him. "You're gonna make yourself sick if all you do is work. Come get a hug and let's go to bed."

Steve hesitates, but relents; he's missed Bucky's hugs, damn it. With a sigh, he turns around and walks back over to the table, letting himself lean into Bucky. "I'm sorry," he mutters, muffled by Bucky's shirt. "I'll try to stop being so stupid."

"Just look after yourself," Bucky murmurs, one hand stroking soothingly down Steve's back. "You don't need to run yourself into the ground over a damn commission."

"I know," Steve mumbles. "I just get so focused."

Bucky hums, squeezes Steve a little tighter. "When does this piece need to be finished?"

"They want to have it shipped by next week," Steve says. "I still have to glaze and fire it again."

"Okay," Bucky says. "Send that off, then, and we'll have a day to ourselves afterwards. We can do whatever you want."

Steve chuckles. "I may just make you feed me while we watch Netflix," he warns. 

Bucky grins. "I think I can handle that."

* * *

Steve manages to finish the commission early, so they have the whole weekend to themselves. It's nice, if a little strained still, and it's exactly what they both need. Steve throws himself back into his work first thing Monday morning, however, so Bucky follows his lead and pulls away, too. He has Mark now, after all. If Steve's busy, then Bucky sees no reason to spend all of his free time moping around the apartment, alone or ignored.

It's about a week later, and Bucky is over at Mark's for the night. They're currently lounging in bed, naked, exchanging idle conversation and lazy kisses while they work their way up to round two, when Mark suddenly pulls back. Bucky's phone has just buzzed for the fifth time in as many minutes - but it's on the other side of the room, and Bucky doesn't want to move. "Just ignore it," he laughs, reeling Mark back in. "If it's an emergency, they'll call. It's probably just Facebook, anyway."

Mark looks reassured by this, leaning in for another kiss - until the phone actually rings. He curses under his breath, giving Bucky a playful glare. "You just _had_ to say that, didn't you? You better answer it now."

"All right, all right!" Bucky's still laughing as he hurries across the room to grab his phone, and he's grinning over at Mark when he answers without looking at the caller ID. "This better be good, I'm a little busy right now."

"I know," Steve rasps, voice echoing in a way that indicates he's in their slightly-too-small bathroom. "Wouldn't be calling if it weren't serious."

The smile slips off Bucky's face. "Steve? What's wrong?"

"Picked up a stomach bug, I think," Steve mutters. "Just need you to pick up some ginger ale and crackers on your way back." 

"Steve." Bucky's scowl is evident in his voice. "How bad?"

Steve hesitates, then sighs, the sound crackling down the line. "I've been in the bathroom since I got back from classes," he admits. "Our tap water tastes like ass, by the way."

"Can you move now?" Bucky demands. "Eat something?"

"Probably?" Steve guesses. "Haven't thrown up in a while."

"Be honest with me, Steve."

Another sigh comes down the line. "I could probably make it to the couch, but I doubt I could make it to the kitchen and get something to eat."

Bucky's jaw clenches. "All right," he says, already reaching for his pants. "I'll be there soon, okay? Get to the couch if you can."

"Buck, you don't have to leave your date," Steve protests. 

Mark looks like he's about to say something similar, but Bucky waves him off, frowning. "Shut up," he tells Steve. "I'm not far. Get off the floor and wait for me."

Steve hangs up with a grumble, and Mark gives Bucky a worried look. " Does your roommate get sick often?"

"No," Bucky says, already pulling his t-shirt over his head. "Not anymore. Which is why I gotta go."

Mark nods, getting up and handing Bucky his jacket. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks," Bucky mutters, searching for his keys now. He stops long enough to give Mark a chaste peck on the cheek and then makes for the bedroom door, but then hesitates once he reaches it. "He's not just my roommate, y'know? He's my best friend."

Mark smiles. "I know. Now go on; you should probably get home sooner rather than later." 

Bucky smiles. "Thanks for getting it," he says. "I'll call you." And then he's gone.

* * *

Steve has managed to make it to the couch, fishing one of the emergency packs of peanut butter crackers from the drawer of the end table and picking the peanut butter off to eat the crackers. When the lock clicks and the door opens, Steve manages to raise a hand and call out, "Not dead."

Bucky drops his jacket to the floor and kicks his shoes off before approaching the couch and sinking to his knees beside Steve. "Christ," he sighs, his hand instinctively rising to feel Steve's forehead, the side of his neck. "How you doin', Stevie?"

"Better than when I got home," Steve replies, a game attempt at a joke. He's still pale and clammy, shivering every so often. 

"You're burning up," Bucky tells him, in case he didn't already know. "You still feel sick?"

"More feverish than puke-y," Steve tells him. "Though if I get anything too solid in me that might change."

Bucky nods to the crackers. "How many of those have you eaten?"

"Just the one pack. None of the peanut butter, though."

"Okay," Bucky says. His hand is still on Steve's neck, and he starts up an idle back-and-forth with his thumb. "I'm gonna heat up some soup, and then you're gonna take some acetaminophen and go to bed. Sound good?"

Steve sighs, eyelids drooping as he leans into Bucky's touch. "Yeah," he murmurs, clearly exhausted. "Sounds good." 

Bucky smiles softly, pushes Steve's damp hair back from his face before he lets go entirely. "I'll be right back."

Steve stays on the couch while Bucky putters around the kitchen; he can hear cabinet doors opening and closing, and then the can opener and the microwave go off one after the other, but Steve honestly doesn't have the energy to do more than just sort of... drift until Bucky comes back with the promised soup. It smells delicious, and after a brief lurch, his stomach appears to agree. "What kind did you heat up?" Steve asks, reaching for the bowl.

"Chicken," Bucky tells him, grabbing one of the throw pillows Clint brought over when they moved in and putting it on Steve's lap for extra stability. "Won't be as good as your ma's, but you didn't give me much notice."

Steve snorts. "Yeah, well, I didn't get much notice either," he retorts, taking the spoon from Bucky. 

Bucky smiles. "I'll make some tomorrow," he promises.

"That would be nice," Steve hums, blowing gently on his spoonful before carefully sipping, waiting to see if his stomach is going to turn on him at the last moment. When it does nothing but give a slight roll, he dares another spoonful, and then another when that's received indifferently. "Sorry for interrupting your date."

"It's okay," Bucky says gently. "It wasn't really a date, we were just hanging out."

Steve shrugs. "But you were still spending time with each other, and it's still a new relationship."

"It's fine," Bucky insists. "You needed me."

Steve grumbles a bit more, but doesn’t push the issue; he knows Bucky will just keep repeating that same phrase no matter what he says. They lapse into silence as Steve finishes his soup, taking his time so as not to upset his stomach again, and by the time the bowl is empty he feels much better. Steve yawns as he passes his bowl over to Bucky, wincing when his jaw cracks. “Guess I should head to bed,” he murmurs. 

"Yeah," Bucky agrees, his voice just as soft. "You gonna be okay?"

”Eventually,” Steve says with a slight smile. “Feel the furthest thing from it right now, though.”

Bucky fights hard to keep the concern off his face. "You just need to sleep it off," he says. "I'll be right down the hall if you need me."

Steve hesitates for a moment before he asks, "Do... you have anything you need to do tonight?"

"No," Bucky answers. "I'm not letting you out of my sight." He hesitates. "Or, at least hearing range."

"I..." Steve blows out a breath. "I'd feel better if you stayed closer," he admits.

"What," Bucky asks, "like in your room?"

Steve shrugs. "Yeah. Like we used to do when I got sick all the time."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Couch cushions?" he asks.

Steve snorts. "No, in middle school."

Bucky's other eyebrow raises, too. "You were a lot fuckin' smaller then, Stevie."

"I've got a bigger bed," Steve counters. 

Bucky smiles. "You really feeling that bad?"

"I am fucking exhausted," Steve complains. "I've spent half the day puking, so yes. I'm feeling that bad."

"All right," Bucky says, his voice gentle. "I'll stay with you."

* * *

Bucky wakes slowly, pleasantly warm and beyond content. He's being held, and is holding in return - but this isn't Mark. The bed is too soft and the arms around him too strong; he feels far too safe for it to be Mark.

When he opens his eyes, it's to find Steve already awake and watching him, his face achingly soft in the morning sunlight just beginning to filter into the room. Bucky smiles. "Hi."

"Morning," Steve returns. "You were doing that cartoon snore again."

Bucky huffs, smiles wider. "Well excuse me," he whispers. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Steve says around a yawn. "Mouth tastes like ass, though."

"You need to brush your teeth," Bucky agrees, though he can't seem to keep the fondness out of his tone. "Take it easy today, yeah? I'll make that soup."

Steve groans, arms tightening around Bucky even as he buries his face in his pillow. "Ten more minutes."

Bucky chuckles and wriggles a hand free from the crush of Steve's body to gently pet his hair. "Whatever you say."

Steve hums happily, pushing into the contact. "That feels nice," he mumbles. "Been a while since we had a morning like this, huh?"

Bucky murmurs his agreement. "Haven’t needed to share a bed since you got sick last year," he says. "And that wasn't exactly pleasant. You were _so ill_."

Steve makes a face. "I got hit with systemic strep, the flu, and then appendicitis at the end. It wasn't pleasant for me, either, buddy."

"I know," Bucky says. "I know it was awful. I'm just grateful that this time I knew you weren't going to die. A stomach bug's easy."

Steve snorts. "Still sucks though," he mutters, scooching closer to Bucky. "Did you have plans for today?"

Bucky doesn't even hesitate. "Nah," he lies. "Nothing except looking after my best guy."

Steve doesn't look like he quite believes that, but his heart's tripping over itself so much he can't summon the energy to question Bucky further.

* * *

The next day, Mark sends Bucky a text. **So you're saying that Steve only had a 24hr bug???**

 **Yeah.** Bucky sends back. **Hes good as new now.**

**That's good. Would've appreciated a bit more warning though about needing to break that reservation at the Thai place.**

Guilt curdles in Bucky's stomach, but he can't go back in time. **Im sorry. U couldve still gone..**

**It was a date, Bucky. I understand Steve's important to you, but I just... I'd appreciate it if you kept me a little more in the loop.**

**I will from now on. But ur right. Steve needed me. Im sorry x**

Mark doesn't reply for a while, but eventually, **Okay. Thanks x**

Bucky just puts his phone down, and resolves not to think about it.

* * *

"So," Bucky says, about a month later when things with Mark have been smoothed over and, save for a few cases of the sniffles, Steve's health seems to be as good as they're going to get it until spring. "Ma's been after me about Christmas again. Wants to know if our plans have changed." He and Steve are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, together for the first time all week, and they've been carefully watching the TV instead of each other for the past two hours. Bucky is growing tired of the silence, the tension that has permeated the apartment for far too long. He cuts his gaze to Steve. "They haven't, have they?"

"I was thinking maybe we could host this year, actually," Steve says. "I've been meaning to bring it up. It's our first Christmas here, and Mom hasn't gotten a chance to see the apartment yet."

Bucky's eyes widen. "Okay," he says. "Just us and your mom?"

"Maybe your folks, too? Your mom and dad, at least." Steve hesitates, then suggests, "Maybe you could even bring by this mysterious person you’re dating."

Bucky pulls a face. "That'd be a bit weird, wouldn't it?" he asks. "A normal family dinner, except for the fact that I brought a plus one. Becca didn't bring Dave until they got married."

"Well, why don't you bring that 'plus one' over before then?" Steve counters. "I'd like to meet her."

Bucky flushes and looks away. "I don't know if we're ready for that," he says. "It's still early days, isn't it?"

"You don't _have_ to," Steve says. "But you've been going out with her a lot the past couple of months."

Bucky barely contains a flinch. "I know," he says. "I know. I just... It'll change things."

"What, like with your relationship?"

"With everything," Bucky says. "I haven't told anyone, except you. If we do Christmas, and I tell my ma and the guys, I won't just be Bucky anymore."

"Well, if you really don't want to bring her over for Christmas, that's fine, Bucky," Steve reassures him. "I'd still like to meet this person, though."

Bucky can't quite look Steve in the eye. "Why?" he asks.

"Because you always seem... happier, when you come back from a date," Steve says, ignoring the sharp pang of jealousy he feels at those words. Steve makes himself grin, makes his next words teasing, "I just want to meet whoever's responsible for that, and maybe congratulate her on managing to keep you for more than three dates."

Bucky huffs. "We'll talk about it," he says. "If we both agree, then... We'll see, okay?" He looks at Steve then, his eyes wide and beseeching. "I'm sorry, Steve. I can't make any promises right now."

"Okay," Steve says, feeling slightly guilty for pushing. "It's fine, I understand. I'm just curious; you know how I get."

Bucky smiles. "I do," he says, "which is why I know that no matter what I decide, you're going to push this Christmas thing. You really think we're up to hosting?"

"I think so," Steve says with a grin. "Besides, neither of our families are _that_ big. It'll only be a bit bigger than that time when Tony invited Thor and he brought his brother, too, right after we moved in. We survived that, didn't we?"

"Barely," Bucky laughs. "We should probably invite Stark, though. If he doesn't go home."

"He might go home with Pepper," Steve says thoughtfully. "But they might not do that until after Christmas. Tony's mentioned she's busy this semester."

"Well, we'll wait until he says something first," Bucky decides. "Pepper can come too, I guess." He grins. "It's our apartment. We can invite who we want."

Steve knows his own grin probably looks incredibly stupid. "Still can't believe it, sometimes. That we've got a place all our own."

"I know," Bucky says, lolling his head against the back of the couch. "But we've earned it, though. Mom was right."

"About what in particular?" Steve asks, laughing. "She's right about a lot of things."

"About how far we've come," Bucky says. "From a couple of scrappy kids with scraped knees and bloody noses."

Steve's grin softens into a quiet smile. "Yeah, we have. Who would've thought, huh? Can't believe you're not sick of me, yet." 

"Don't be stupid," Bucky says mildly, closing his eyes and tipping his face back toward the ceiling. He smiles. "I'll never get sick of you, Rogers."

* * *

"Steve wants to meet you," Bucky says without much preamble when he sees Mark the next day. "What do you think?"

Mark blinks at the sudden question, then takes a moment to think. After that, he shrugs. "I'd be okay with it if you're ready for me to meet him."

"I don't know," Bucky admits. "I still don't really know how to come out." He bites his lip. "Steve is talking about hosting Christmas dinner at our place. If I tell him before that, maybe you could come? If you don't have plans."

"Or I could meet him before," Mark suggests. "Less people, less stress, maybe? Whichever way you want to do it is okay by me."

Bucky bites his lip. "Actually," he says, "a crowd might be better. It'll be less obvious if he's going to be weird about it."

Mark nods. "Okay. It's your call, babe; you know him better than I do. Are you going to tell him I'm a guy before that or?"

Bucky nods. "I wouldn't just spring it on him."

Mark nods again. "I understand. Just let me know when you do it and how it goes, okay?"

"I will." Bucky smiles, kisses him. "Thank you for understanding."

* * *

Bucky's been acting odd again this past week, Steve notices. Ever since his last date with this mysterious person he's been getting serious with, Bucky's been... antsy. Eventually, Steve manages to intercept Bucky on the couch, dropping onto it with a dramatic sigh and kicking his feet into Bucky's lap. "What're we watching?" he asks, looking at Bucky rather than the television screen. 

" _That 70s Show_ ," Bucky answers, without looking up. "Donna just found out that Kelso and Laurie are hooking up."

"Oh, drama," Steve chuckles. "I forget how she reacts."

"This is the one where they all go camping and Hyde spends the whole time trying to get Jackie to catch Kelso out," Bucky tells him. "Donna just gets pissy 'cause Eric kept her out of the loop." He looks at Steve then, just a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and away again.

"Well, I can't blame her," Steve admits. "That was a pretty big, serious loop he was keeping her out of, and they are together. Why are you watching this, anyway? Nothing else on?" 

Bucky just shrugs. "I like it."

Steve hums, letting the conversation pause - until the next commercial break. "So, how've things been going with you and this mysterious date?"

"Um," Bucky says. "Good. Why?"

Steve shrugs. "Just wondering. You're getting antsy again, is all."

Bucky lets out a shaky sigh that's almost a laugh. "Oh," he says. "No, things... things are great. I asked about Christmas, and meeting you."

"Oh?" Steve prods, as gently as he can. 

"We got a yes. To both." Bucky sighs again. "Whether or not you actually meet before Christmas... depends."

Steve tilts his head slightly; Bucky looks pretty nervous, so he needs to tread lightly here. "On what?"

"On how you react," Bucky says.

Steve frowns, confused. "Why would I react weirdly to being introduced to your girlfriend?"

Bucky can't look at him. "Because she's not."

"Not...?" Steve encourages, though he's starting to suspect what Bucky's getting at. 

"My girlfriend," Bucky says, every word like pulling teeth. "Not my girlfriend."

Steve takes a deep breath, and decides to say it first. "Bucky... are they your boyfriend?"

Bucky's breath leaves him all in a rush. "His name is Mark," he says. "And, yeah. I guess he's my boyfriend."

Steve blinks, then stares at Bucky while his brain reboots, processing the new information. "Oh," he says, a bit lamely, and then clears his throat and smiles. "Well, great. I'm happy for you, Buck. And I still want to meet him."

"Are you sure?" Bucky asks, finally looking up to search Steve's face. "I know it's a little... different."

"That doesn't mean it's bad," Steve reassures Bucky, his smile more genuine now. "As long as you're happy, Buck. That's what matters most."

"Oh." Bucky manages to smile, too. "Thanks, Stevie."

Steve just gives Bucky another smile, and turns his attention back to the television.

* * *

**Fuck. You awake?**

Peggy's response takes a moment that feels like a decade. **I'm knackered Steve talk tomorrow??**

**I... We can, but this is big.**

**How big?**

Steve hesitates, debating on the best way to say it, then decides on, **Bucky just told me that he isn't dating Nat. He's dating some guy named Mark.**

**Alright. Let me boot the laptop up and I'll ring you**

**Okay**

Steve opens his own laptop, double-checks that his bedroom door is closed, and then waits for Peggy's call, accepting it before the chime gets too loud. "Hey," he says, offering Peggy and apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I just - I really need to talk."

Judging from the somewhat grainy picture, Peggy is sitting in her living room in the dark. She's in her pyjamas, her hair a mess, and her soft smile is gentled further by the fact that she isn't wearing any make up. It's quite clear that Steve has just dragged her out of bed for this. "It's fine," she tells him. "This is huge. Are you okay?"

Steve blows out a breath. " Not really," he admits, rubbing his hands over his face. "I mean, I'm still happy that Bucky's happy, but at the same time, I'm kind of hurt? I mean, how long has he known he's liked guys? He's never said anything."

"Have you asked him?" Peggy wants to know. "What actually got said?"

"We were talking about him bringing this person he's been dating over for Christmas, which we are having at our place, and I assumed it was his girlfriend," Steve says. "He corrected me, said it was his boyfriend, Mark." 

"Was that it?" Peggy demands. "Steve."

"What?" Steve snaps, defensive. "That was it. There wasn't really much else that we said; I told him it was fine with me that he's dating a guy, long as he was happy."

"So you didn't ask him anything?" Peggy asks. "How long he's liked boys? Why he didn't tell you?"

"No, because he looked pretty spooked already," Steve answers. "I was more worried about getting him to calm down and not run off."

Peggy raises an eyebrow. "He must have been rather worried you'd take it badly," she offers. "How do you feel about it?"

"A bit hurt, like I said. Partly because he didn't feel like he could tell me before now, but also... Well, he's not straight, is he? If he doesn't like guys, that's one thing."

"But now we know he does like guys," Peggy says, "and it's just that he doesn't like you. Oh, love."

Steve laughs, but it's short and hollow. "Yeah, that about sums it up," he says, bracing his elbows against the desk and putting his head in his hands. "It... kind if makes it worse, actually."

"Love," Peggy says again. "What are you going to do?"

"Probably go out and get drunk at least once," Steve says honestly. "Can't fucking say anything to him now, can I? He's already in a relationship, and he's happy with this guy. I'm not going to break that up."

"You still need to talk to him," Peggy says. "When you're ready, for the sake of your friendship. You need to find out why he hid this from you."

"Yeah," Steve sighs. "I know. It was a hell of a shock, and it'll probably take a bit of time before I'm ready to really talk to him about it."

Peggy gives him another soft, sad smile. "I'm so sorry, Steve," she murmurs. "I wish there was something I could do."

"You and me, both," Steve mutters, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks, Pegs. Sorry for keeping you up late."

"It's all right," Peggy assures him. "I'm always here for you, even if I am a bit grumpy. But I'm not grumpy now. You have every reason to be upset."

Steve laughs, but it falls flat. "Yeah, maybe. Still, thanks. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Of course," Peggy says. "I love you, Steve."

Steve waits long enough to return the sentiment before ending the call.

* * *

Bucky thought it would get easier after he told Steve. He thought he'd finally be able to relax, to talk freely about Mark, to be _himself_. Steve even seemed to take it quite well; he smiled and told Bucky he just wanted to be happy, and things seemed to settle between them for the first time in weeks. But Bucky's starting to think Steve was lying.

"What the hell is eating you?" he demands when Steve tries to leave the kitchen as soon as Bucky walks in for the fifth time in three days. It's getting ridiculous. Steve's dinner is still on the heat and yet he just abandoned the frying pan without so much as a backward glance. Bucky at least has the decency to push the pan onto a different burner before continuing. "You can't avoid me forever, Steve. I never pegged you for a homophobe."

"I'm not!" Steve snaps, then has to take a deep breath before he says something stupid. "Look, I just have been trying to wrap my head around how you never told me that you even _thought_ you might like guys, and now you've got a boyfriend. It's a bit out of left field, is all."

"That's what this is about?" Bucky demands. "Because I didn't tell you? God forbid I have something going on in my life that I don't tell you about, Steve. Because you've _never_ kept secrets."

"Never something this big," Steve retorts. "I just mean - we're best friends, Buck. Why didn't you say something? The way you were acting, you were worried about it, and I thought we trusted each other."

"We do," Bucky tells him. "I do trust you. I just... I don't know. I was scared."

Steve can't help the slight note of hurt that enters his voice then. "Scared of telling me you even thought you might be attracted to men?"

Bucky looks hurt, too. "Yes," he says. "It was something I had to figure out for myself."

"But you didn't have to do it _alone,_ " Steve argues. 

"I wanted to," Bucky tells him. "I barely understood what was going on myself. I didn't want anyone staring at me while I tried to work it out."

"And you think I would have?" Steve asks, the hurt more plainly heard now. 

The sound Bucky makes is almost a growl. "I don't know!" he cries. "I don't know, Steve, okay? I just couldn't tell you! I couldn't tell anyone, except--"

Steve stops, stares. "Except?"

Bucky could bite his own tongue off, he swears to God. "Except Nat," he admits.

It takes Steve several tries to find his voice, and when he does, it's flat. "Right. So, you - you could trust _Natasha_ with this, but not me."

"I didn't have a choice," Bucky says. "She worked it out."

"And you still didn't feel like you could tell me?" Steve demands, then shakes his head. "Whatever, it's a moot point now. Just... I'll stop being weird, I swear."

"I'm sorry," Bucky says, and he means it. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, and that it's hurt you. But it was about me. I wanted to deal with it on my own. That choice had nothing to do with you."

There's not a lot Steve can say to that, so he doesn't say anything at all.

* * *

About a week later, Peggy is back on Skype with Steve, this time peering at him with concerned eyes over the rim of a mug of tea. "So when was the last time you actually spoke to him?" she asks.

Steve sighs. "About... three days ago? It was just really quick over breakfast before I had to get back to commissions, but it was... awkward. Tense. We've _never_ been like that around each other."

"And he hasn't been home since?" Peggy asks.

"Once," Steve answers. "I was in my studio messing with the kiln and heard him come in and leave. When I looked around, his suitcase was gone."

Peggy's eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. "His _suitcase?_ He hasn't moved out, has he?" 

"I don't think so," Steve says, but he sounds unsure. "Most of his stuff is still here, it looks like. I think he's just gone to spend the weekend with Mark."

Peggy sighs, takes a sip from her mug. "Well, at least he's keeping himself busy," she muses. "What about you? How are you handling things?"

Steve shrugs. "I told him I'd stop being weird," he says. "But.... I really don't think I'm succeeding."

Peggy raises an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"How strained everything's been," Steve answers. "The fact that he left for the weekend without even sticking his head in the studio to say goodbye. Just - things aren't the same, and I think I'm the reason why."

"Perhaps you are," Peggy says mildly. "You didn't take it very well."

"Yeah, I know," Steve mutters. "I just - I was hurt he didn't tell me, and I still am, but now... Fuck, Peggy. I'm _jealous_ of Mark, and you and I both know I never developed a good poker face."

"You're worried he'll work it out," Peggy surmises. "Would that really be so terrible?"

"I don't know," Steve says helplessly. "Sometimes I think it wouldn't be, but other times... And anyway, he's got a boyfriend now, hasn't he? I doubt he'd take it well if he did figure it out now."

"Well, if you keep pushing him away, you might just lose him anyway," Peggy offers.

Steve groans. "I know, I just... Maybe I should do what he did, get out of the apartment for a bit, get some space." The idea isn't without merit; Steve has barely left the apartment since Bucky came out to him. 

"Maybe that's a good idea," Peggy agrees. "Let your hair down a bit. Life does exist outside of work, your studio and Bucky, you know."

"How could I forget, with you to remind me?" Steve counters with a slightly forced grin. "I'll go out tonight, I promise. Dinner somewhere and at least a walk, maybe a movie."

"That sounds lovely," Peggy tells him. "I'm not there to look after you, so you need to look after yourself."

"I will," Steve promises. "Love you, Pegs."

Peggy smiles. "Love you, too."

* * *

Steve holds his promise, going out to a late matinee movie, but instead of going to dinner, he heads for a bar. He took a cab to the theater, and the bar is roughly halfway between the theater and his apartment, and as long as Steve doesn't overindulge, the walk home won't be a bother. The bar is small, locally-owned, and Steve's been there before, so he knows the alcohol is good. He enters looking for a drink, but when his attention is caught by a man at the end of the bar, a man who's eyeing him with obvious interest... Well, his plans change. Steve grabs his drink - tequila and diet coke - and sidles over to empty seat next to the man who'd caught his attention. "Hi," he says, offering a smile. "Hope I'm not being too forward, but my name's Steve, and I couldn't help noticing you looking my way."

The guy just grins and gestures for Steve to sit. "Not too forward at all," he says, his voice almost a purr. "I'm Leo. Would you like another drink?"

Steve laughs. "Maybe when I'm done with this one," he says with a grin. "Or maybe I'll be looking for... something else."

"Really," Leo says, smirking. "I think I can help you with that."

And he does. 

* * *

When Bucky gets home around noon two days later, the last thing he expects to find is a very shirtless and very satisfied-looking man making coffee in his kitchen. He blinks, blinks again - and, no, that is definitely not Steve. He hesitates, wondering vaguely if he somehow walked into the wrong apartment. "Um."

The man whirls to look at him, and smiles. "Hey there" he says, and even extends a hand. "I'm Terry. Are you the roommate?"

Bucky just blinks again. "Um."

"Oh god," Terry says, looking suddenly worried. "Are you the boyfriend? 'Cause he never mentioned a boyfriend, man, I swear." When Bucky continues to just stare at him, he decides to call for reinforcement. "Stuart!"

"Steve," Bucky corrects faintly.

Terry flushes. "Oh, thanks man. Steve! Steve, you'd better get out here and deal with this!"

Steve emerges from the hallway to his bedroom, hair missed in a way that isn't quite bedhead and rolling his eyes. "Deal with what?" he demands. "The coffee maker isn't that - Oh." He stops in his tracks, staring at Bucky. "Hey. I didn't know you were on your way back, would've made sure Terry at least had a shirt on."

Bucky blinks again, but the scene before him still doesn't change. "Right," he says. "Well, I'll leave you to it." Finally regaining the use of his limbs, he turns abruptly, grabs his suitcase from by the front door and retreats towards his bedroom.

Steve gives Terry a shrug, then helps him finish making coffee. Terry leaves soon after that, and Steve waits until Bucky pokes his head out. "Hey," he says, a tentative smile in place. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," Bucky says, closing his bedroom door behind him so that he can lean against it. "I was just a bit surprised. It looked awfully like you just spent the night fucking that guy."

Steve speaks before he can think the words through. "Actually, it was the other way around."

"Oh." Bucky's voice comes out strangled, and he swallows before he tries again. "So, that's new."

Steve shrugs. "Hasn't been new since high school. Junior year, actually."

Bucky's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. " _What_."

"You... don't remember me telling you I thought I might be into guys?" Steve asks, confused. "I told you over spring break."

"You told me you jerked off to gay porn a couple times and then _never mentioned it again_ ," Bucky snaps. "That's not the same as 'oh, guess what, I'm actually gay'!"

"Bisexual," Steve corrects. "And _you_ don't have a leg to stand on! You didn't even mention jerking off to gay porn or anything like that!"

"Oh, fuck you," Bucky groans. "At least I sat you down and told you when I was ready. You practically let me walk in to find you on your back for that guy! He didn't even know your name!"

"It was a one night stand, I'm not surprised he didn't remember my name," Steve retorts. "Maybe if you had let me know what the fuck you were doing this weekend I would've been able to take a page out of your book and keep all this hidden."

"Or you could have been honest about it from the start!" Bucky cries. "Maybe if I hadn't thought you were straight as a fucking yardstick I wouldn't have hidden it for so long! _And!_ " Bucky's voice rises in pitch, his frustration quickly rolling over into anger. "You worked this out _years_ ago! I've only just finished accepting who I am, and you're mad at _me_ for keeping secrets? Get fucked, Rogers!"

"What do you mean, you only just figured it out?" Steve demands. "I thought you - I thought maybe you'd figured it out about the same time I did?"

"No," Bucky says bitterly. "I didn't even start working it out until just after we came to college."

Steve stares at Bucky for a moment. " _How?_ " he finally asks. 

Bucky pulls a face. "I slept with Nat and it was... bad."

"And when was that?"

"Not long after we met her," Bucky says, frowning. "The night we all went out to that shady bar and had way too much to drink. Why? Does it matter?"

"That's still - Jesus, Buck. That's still only two years after I started figuring it out! And you never _once_ thought you could talk to me about it?" Now the hurt is back in full force, and it brings with it more than a little anger. 

"I told you!" Bucky snaps. "I told you months ago why I was scared! The me that everyone knows, including you, Rogers, doesn't go out and fuck boys! By the time I got to college and slept with Natasha, _I_ didn't even know who I was. How was I supposed to explain that to anyone, least of all you?"

"You could've started by saying you were worried about something," Steve shoots back. "For fuck's sake, Bucky, I'm your best friend! I didn't judge you for that stunt in senior year that nearly ended up with you suspended but you think I'd judge you for something so minor as who you're attracted to?"

"Oh my god," Bucky groans, "how many times, Steve? It's not about you! _My_ sexuality crisis has nothing to do with _your_ feelings!"

"Fine, you know what? Fuck you, Bucky. Just... Just _fuck_ you," Steve fumes, pushing himself to his feet and heading for the door. "I'm going for a walk." He's already dressed and has socks on, so he just crams his feet into his shoes and yanks on a jacket. "I'll be back... whenever, I don't know. Might be tomorrow, might be a few days from now. Bye." He's too hurt and furious, emotions too chaotic for anything more eloquent before he slams the door shut behind him. 

* * *

Steve doesn't return until the next day, though he does unbend enough to let Bucky know that the night before with a quick text before he takes refuge in Sam's apartment, claiming (truthfully) that he and Bucky had an argument and he needed to get out of there before he did something incredibly stupid. When Steve returns to the apartment, he brings lunch from the Wendy's down the street, including shelling out for one of those ridiculously expensive all-toppings-included baked potatoes that Bucky likes as a peace offering. He lets himself in, heading for the kitchen to deposit the bag of fast food. "Hey, Bucky," he calls out, cautious, into the apartment. "I uh, I brought lunch."

Bucky emerges from his room almost instantly, drawn out by the smell of the food as much as Steve's voice. "Wendy's?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

Steve shrugs one shoulder, pushing Bucky's food closer to him after taking it out of the bag. "Yeah."

"Thanks," Bucky says, still a little amazed. He moves round to take a seat on the couch, reaches for the food on the coffee table, but hesitates. "Do I, uhh, owe you?"

Steve shakes his head, glancing at his own food instead of looking at Bucky. "No, I owed you. I was an ass."

"So was I," Bucky says, but he's not arguing, just making an observation. He sighs. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," Steve says, because he needs to. 

Bucky nods. "How about we just don't talk about it anymore?" he suggests. "I'm gay, you're bi, we both know and accept this. Let's just move on."

Steve hesitates; he doesn't think it'll be that easy, feels like they should actually talk this out... But he doesn't want to ruin this tentative peace. "Yeah, okay. Truce?"

Bucky smiles. "Truce."

They lapse into silence then, both preoccupied with their food, but eventually Steve dares to ask, "So, did you... spend the weekend with Mark?"

Bucky startles, clears his throat. "Oh, no," he says. "I went home."

Steve ignores the funny feeling in his chest when Bucky refers to his parents' place as 'home' and not their apartment. "Oh. How're they doing?"

"Good," Bucky says. He swallows. "They send their love."

Steve nods, and then asks before he can think better of it, "How's Mark? Things still going good?"

Bucky exhales sharply. "They're okay," he answers, not quite a lie, and then: "Been better."

"Oh?" Steve asks, a tentative encouragement. 

Bucky shrugs. "Things have been a little tense lately. We'll be okay."

Steve nods then, and offers, "I... could listen, if you want to talk?"

"Ah," Bucky says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I've just been distracted, y'know, with everything. I should probably be paying him more attention."

"Well, you are dating," Steve says reasonably. "Just tell him the truth, that I was being stupid and we had to sort that out."

"I know," Bucky says. "I will. I just needed to get some air for a few days."

Steve nods, understanding. "Well, here's hoping he'll understand," he says with a small smile. 

Bucky smiles back, just about. "Yeah," he says. "I'm sure he will."

* * *

Mark doesn't quite understand, exactly, but he does try to accept that sometimes how Bucky feels about what's going on with Steve will affect other aspects of his life. Bucky makes an effort to spend more time with Mark, and if that keeps him out of the apartment and away from any lingering awkwardness with Steve, then all the better. Things with Steve are actually improving though, and they had a long talk last night about Christmas plans and what they both feel like they can handle, and when it all boils down to it, that's why Mark is staring at Bucky right now while Bucky stares pointedly at his plate.

Mark and Steve still haven't met, is the thing, but Bucky gets the impression that Mark doesn't _like_ him. He isn't sure what Steve thinks of Mark, but somehow that doesn't matter as much to him, maybe because Mark is his boyfriend and therefore his opinions are supposed to be more important. At least, that's what Bucky keeps telling himself. He feels like he has to tread delicately, like he has to find the right words so that Mark won't freak out - but in the end, staying silent while he looks for them is just making things worse. He can feel Mark's frustration building from the other side of the table.

So Bucky looks up, meets Mark's gaze for the first time in maybe fifteen minutes, and asks, "Do you have Christmas plans?"

Mark shakes his head. "Heading down to spend the weekend with family the weekend after for New Year's, but that's it."

"Why not the weekend of?" Bucky asks, frowning.

"My aunt has to go visit her husband's family then," Mark explains. "And we all live too far apart to get together more than a couple of times a year, so we have to figure out when everyone can meet."

Bucky nods, pulls a 'fair enough' sort of face. "Well," he says, "you could always come to my place? Steve and I decided to host this year after all."

Mark frowns slightly, just a crease to his brow and barely-there downturn to his mouth. "I don't know," he hedges. "Bit awkward to meet your best friend at a family gathering, isn't it? Not to mention the rest of your family as well."

Bucky shrugs. "If you don't want to, that's fine," he says. "But honestly, it'll probably be the least awkward time to meet any of them. Christmas is always busy. You'll just blend in."

"Well, maybe," Mark allows. "When is it?"

"Christmas day," Bucky says, his mouth quirking up at one corner. "It'll be small, just my parents and Steve's mom and one of our friends from college, maybe his girlfriend."

Mark nods slowly, clearly thinking. "I don't have any plans for that day," he says finally. "I'll come."

Something unpleasant starts to churn in Bucky's gut, but he squashes it down, gives Mark his brightest grin. "Great."

* * *

Christmas morning is a remarkably sedate affair. They cooked the turkey the day before, only have potatoes to peel and all the trimmings to prep for this afternoon, so Bucky and Steve get up early, open presents and wish each other a Merry Christmas before dividing up the chores and getting down to it. There's no rush, no panic, no desperate urge to get everything perfect. They clean and they cook and they sing along to the obnoxious Christmas songs playing on Bucky's phone, and they enjoy it.

At least until the first knock on the door comes.

Bucky turns to Steve, his eyes wide, his mind racing. Will the food be ready in time? Is the apartment clean enough? Is there enough wine, will everyone have a seat at the new table that may or may not collapse at ant moment? All things they've both already thought of and addressed, but this is the first time his mom is coming for a meal in his own home, and it's fucking _Christmas_. They're insane, the pair of them.

Bucky's only a little flustered when he answers the door. "Hey Mom, Dad. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," Winifred says, breezing into the apartment and pressing a kiss to first Bucky's and then Steve's cheek. "Oh, it smells gorgeous in here! Your mom's on her way up, Steve, she's so excited to see you."

"And I'm excited to see her," Steve says with a laugh after he returns Winifred's embrace. "Make yourselves comfortable, do you want anything to drink?"

"Oh, don't fuss, Steve," Winifred says, waving a hand. "You should be relaxing!"

"We are hosting," Bucky points out with a wry grin. "Come on, I'll show you where everything is."

The front door opens again then, and Sarah Rogers walks in, looking tired but happy. "Sorry I'm late, Aunt Muriel called just as we were parking up." She rolls her eyes, and makes grabby hands at Steve. "James Barnes, have you been feeding my son enough? He's wasting away right before my eyes."

Bucky barks a laugh. "You're kidding, right? He never _stops_ eating."

"He's still a growing boy," George laughs. "Lord knows I didn't have my last growth spurt until my twenties."

"You could both do with fattening up a little," Sarah says peevishly. "But I suppose today will fix that." She grins. "Merry Christmas, boys."

"Merry Christmas, Mom," Steve says with a laugh and another hug. "Come on, I want you to double check the mashed potatoes and make sure I got them right."

* * *

Things are going well, Bucky reflects an hour or so later. Sarah has deemed Steve's potatoes perfect, Tony arrived with Pepper in tow about half an hour ago, and they're all laughing together in the living room, enjoying a drink and good company before dinner. Of course, another knock on the door throws a spanner in the works.

Bucky had kind of forgotten about Mark until now, but it all comes rushing back when he sees him standing on the other side of the door, looking nervous but happy and holding a bright red gift bag. Anxiety clenches in Bucky's stomach. "You're early," he says quietly. "Dinner's not for an hour."

"Yeah, but I've already spent two pacing worrying about this," Mark returns, giving Bucky a nervous smile. "Figured I might as well get the big scary introduction over with "

Bucky smiles back. "Okay," he says. "Well, come in. Everyone's sitting down with a drink, do you want one?"

He fully intends to show Mark over to the couches, find him a chair, introduce him with as little fuss as possible and then carry on as normal - but of course his mother has other ideas. "Oh James," she says, giving Mark a beaming smile. "Steve mentioned you'd invited someone else." 

"Yeah," Bucky says, while every other person in the apartment turns to stare at them. "Mark, this is my mom and dad, Sarah, Steve's mom, Tony, Pepper and Steve." He swallows, finds that when he indicates Steve he can't quite meet Steve's gaze. "Everyone, this is Mark. My boyfriend."

The thing is, Bucky knows he wasn't being completely idealistic, or even overly optimistic, when he hoped that this would go down without a fanfare. His cousin Bess came out as a lesbian last year, and his mom's brother has a new boy or girlfriend every other week. His family isn't homophobic, and he knows his friends aren't. When he actually sat down and thought about it, after he told Steve everything, he realised he doesn't have any reason to hide it from them now that he's comfortable with the idea himself. So he thinks he's completely justified in being totally bowled over when all of the colour drains from his father's face, and his mother looks like she's going to cry.

"Your boyfriend?" she asks, bewildered.

What's even more strange is that Sarah suddenly loses all interest in Bucky, and instead grabs Steve's hand. "Sweetheart, why didn't you _tell me?_ "

Mark looks lost, and Steve's no better. "Tell you what?" he asks, bewildered. "That Bucky has a boyfriend? That wasn't my news to tell."

"Steven Grant Rogers," Sarah snaps, drowning out anything Bucky or anyone else could have said. "Don't you dare brush this under the rug. I love Bucky like a son, but you _are_ my son, and if he hurt you--"

"Did you?" Winifred demands, and she still looks like she's going to cry, but she also looks furious. "Is this down to you, James?"

Bucky shares a desperate look with Steve. "Is what down to me?" he asks.

"You and Steve!" Winifred cries, and now she really is crying. "Oh, James, why didn't you tell us? When did you break up?"

"We... didn't?" Steve says, confused. "We've never dated."

To everyone's surprise, Tony snorts. "Don't be ridiculous," he says. "You two have been together for _years_."

"No," Bucky says, and his voice comes out shaky and strange. "We really, really haven't."

Pepper looks like she's coming to a realization, but Steve's already beat her to it. "No, I know we've always been close, but we've never dated," he says, sounding a bit strangled. 

" _Never_ ," Bucky repeats, and he can't look at Steve now, can't look at anyone.

His mother is still crying. "So... so Steve isn't..."

Bucky still doesn't look up, but he answers, too fast and too harsh. " _No._ "

"And this is..."

"Yes." Without really knowing why, Bucky grabs for Mark's hand. "Mark. Is my boyfriend."

"Oh." Winifred sniffles, wipes her face, tries to smile. "Well. It's lovely to meet you."

From the other side of the room, Tony barks out a vaguely hysterical laugh. "What the _fuck?_ "

Mark slips his hand into Bucky's, but when no one else says anything, he gives them a tight smile. "Well, it was nice meeting you," he says, though the sentiment doesn't quite sound sincere. He tugs on Bucky's hand, a silent request for a private conversation. 

Bucky's actually grateful for the excuse to escape, to get out from under the searching gaze of everyone _but_ Steve, so he squeezes Mark's hand and takes a halting step back. "Um. We'll be right back." He all but drags Mark out of the apartment.

Mark waits until they're almost at the end of the hall before he turns to face Bucky. "What the fuck?" he hisses, more out of an attempt to keep their conversation from being overheard than out of anger; frankly, he's still too stunned to be angry. "Your family thought you were dating your _roommate?_ "

Bucky shakes his head, bewildered. "I guess so. Christ, my mom was _crying_ , I don't-- How could I miss this?"

"I don't know, because apparently it was perfectly obvious to them!" Mark snaps. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bucky demands. "I haven't done anything wrong here!"

"You obviously haven't been doing anything to discourage this," Mark retorts, then shakes his head. "I think it would be better if you go back in and straighten this out. I don't think it would be a good idea for me to stick around."

"There's nothing left to straighten out," Bucky argues, feeling desperate. "They know now, and that's all there is to it. Please don't go. It's Christmas."

Mark shakes his head. "I really don't think that would be a good idea."

"Come on," Bucky says, "it's them who have the problem, not us or Steve. And they're not going to be dicks about it." He hesitates. "Well, Tony might."

"No, Bucky," Mark says, almost snaps. "I don't particularly want to go back in there and watch your parents try to get to know me when they were clearly enamored of the idea of you being with Steve. For fuck's sake, I've had awkward first meetings before, but this takes the cake."

Bucky's jaw clenches. "Fine," he says. "I'll grab your coat, shall I, so you don't even have to go back in there for that?"

"No, it's fine; I drove here and it's not like that's my only coat," Mark says. "I'll pick it up some other time."

Bucky's eyes widen. "Right," he says. "I guess I'll see you later, then."

Mark offers him a tight smile. "Yeah, see you later."

Bucky doesn't wait until he's gone to go back inside.

* * *

Christmas dinner is a strained affair, only made worse by the fact that both Sarah and Winifred keep trying to make small talk even though no one can look at anything but their plates. Bucky isn't surprised when Tony and Pepper start making noises about leaving as soon as the dishes have been cleared, even less so when his parents use that as an excuse to start inching towards the door as well. He looks up long enough to say goodbye to Tony and Pepper, acknowledges that his father is going to wait out in the hall while his mother uses the bathroom and gets her things together, but goes back to staring at his hands after that, far too uncomfortable to even think about doing anything else.

It's for this reason that Bucky doesn't notice Steve slipping through the front door after his father, doesn't notice that anything more than the obvious is amiss at all until Sarah Rogers is looming over him. She looks even more tired than she did after she worked a twenty hour shift when they were kids, and Bucky swallows audibly. "Yeah?"

Sarah doesn't waste time beating around the bush. "Steve's coming home with me; he's going to spend at least the weekend, possibly the week."

Bucky blinks, swallows again. "Right," he says, voice hoarse. "Okay then."

"After the past couple of weeks, Steve says that he needs some time away," Sarah continues, looking at Bucky with a raised eyebrow. "He says he's been under a lot of stress."

"And that's my fault?" Bucky demands, wounded.

"Well, from what he tells me you haven't exactly been doing much of anything to help him lighten that load," Sarah says tartly. "At any rate, I suggested he take some time away from everything, and he agreed. I'm sure he'll let you know when he's ready to come back."

Bucky's stomach lurches. "Sarah," he says, his gaze pleading. "All he ever has to do is talk to me and I'll help him however I can. You have to know that; _he_ has to know that."

Sarah sighs. "He does, and that's the problem. I get the feeling he doesn't feel like he _can_ talk to you about what he's going through." She shakes her head, turning to grab her keys and coat off of the back of the couch. "One of us will let you know what's going on," she repeats. "I'll talk to you later, Bucky." She gives him a small smile, too tight to be truly comforting, before she leaves. 

Absurdly, Bucky expects a similar lecture from his mother when she comes back from the bathroom, but she just smiles and kisses him and thanks him for a _lovely day_ before following his dad and the others down to the car. He stares at the door for a long moment, numb, wondering what to do now. The dishes, probably; put the apartment back together and throw all of their crap into a bin liner, whatever else needs doing so that he doesn't hate himself in the morning. He kind of hates himself now, though, so what difference would a few hours make?

In the end, he gets to his feet, leaves his phone on the couch, and just goes to bed.

* * *

Steve doesn't contact Bucky over the weekend except for one text Sunday evening: **Staying for the week.** It's short and simple, painfully so, but it's also all that Steve sends. Mark, on the other hand, has been texting Bucky constantly, and they've called a couple of times and talked over the phone... But this time, when Bucky picks up the phone, Mark doesn't sound as sympathetic as he has before now. "I think we need to have a serious conversation," he starts off with as soon as Bucky answers. "About Steve."

"What?" Bucky asks. Steve is the one subject they've been avoiding since Christmas. "What about Steve?"

Mark sighs. "Look, there's no easy way to ask this, but... are you in love with him?"

Bucky chokes on his own spit. "Mark," he says, "you _called_ me to ask me if I'm in love with _someone else?_ "

"Yeah, I did," Mark says, clearly frustrated, "because I couldn't get up the nerves to ask you while we were face to face. Maybe because the more I think about it the more obvious it seems."

"How?" Bucky demands. He laughs, has to. "Where has this come from?"

"Well, let me see," Mark starts. "You left in the middle of one of our weekend dates to take care of Steve, but at the time I just thought, 'Oh, Steve's like a brother to him, it's not that big of a deal.' Then there was the fact that you were more worried about telling Steve we're dating than _your parents,_ and the way you stressed after that when he wasn't immediately accepting. Then, when you walked in on his morning after, you freaked out." 

"I did not freak out," Bucky argues, indignant. "And if I did, it wasn't because I was _jealous_. I was. Surprised."

"No, Bucky - you _were_ jealous," Mark corrects. "And to be frank, right now you sound like you're in denial."

"Listen," Bucky says, annoyed now. "There is _nothing_ between me and Steve - I can't even believe you need me to tell you that!"

"No, there isn't anything going on, I believe that, but that doesn't mean you don't love him," Mark snaps. There's a pause, and then the sound of Mark taking a deep breath. "Look, Bucky. There's a reason your family - yours and his - thought you were together. More than that, your _friends_ clearly thought so as well. I think you should take some time and think about that, figure out why. Until then... I don't think we should see each other. Not until you know for sure what you feel for who."

"Mark," Bucky says, desperate, and his next words come out all wrong. "Steve doesn't--"

"Bull. _Shit._ " Mark's rebuttal is sharp, stinging with his own pain. "I spent all of three minutes in the same room as him, and even I can see the guy loves you. I'd lay money on it being more than just 'brotherly' love, too."

Bucky flinches, and is glad that Mark isn't there to see it. "I don't want to hurt... anyone," he says lamely.

There's another sigh, and when Mark speaks again, his tone is noticeably gentler. "I know. But this situation... It's going to hurt _someone_ either way. I know how I feel, I'm fairly certain Steve knows how he feels, now you need to figure out how _you_ feel."

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, screws his eyes shut against the warring in his chest. "Okay," he says. "Okay, I'll-- I'll work it out."

"Okay," Mark echoes. "Good - Good luck."

It seems utterly ridiculous to thank him, so Bucky just hangs up.

* * *

Bucky goes to bed early and, after tossing and turning into the small hours, fully intends to sleep in late - so the last thing he expects is to be woken by someone flinging open his bedroom door and yanking the covers right off him. "Fuck!" he yelps, scrambling helplessly away from the sudden cold. "Steve?"

"No," comes the short, sharp answer. "Natasha. And _you_ have some explaining to do."

"Oh, fuck off," Bucky groans, finally gathering enough of his own wits to snatch his blanket back from Natasha. "Why am I always the bad guy?"

"Right now, I think you're just the _stupid_ guy," Natasha retorts, moving closer until she's sitting on Bucky's bed. "Honestly, Bucky - everything you asked me to do, to cover for you and whatnot, we all thought you were going to propose."

" _Propose?_ " Bucky can't even see straight, let alone wrap his head around that. He groans again. "Can I please have at least three mouthfuls of coffee before we continue this conversation?"

Natasha studies him for a moment before she nods. "Fine. You've got ten minutes to get that coffee and then we'll continue this talk." With that, she gets off of the bed and disappears towards the kitchen. 

Exactly eight minutes later, Bucky is glaring at Nat over the brim of his mug, feeling no more prepared for this despite the fact that the coffee is already halfway gone. "Okay," he says. "So. What?"

"When you asked me to cover for you if Steve started asking where you were going, I mentioned it to Tony and the others, and they all agreed. We thought you were planning to propose to Steve, because you two are that gross couple that would get married before they're out of school."

Bucky cringes, looks away. "I don't see how this is my problem," he says. "You were all way off the mark. What is it you want me to say?"

Natasha pulls out her phone and flips through it, poking at a couple of things before she pushes it across the table to him. "Look through that," she instructs. "It's photos from all of us. We've taken them over the past few years."

Bucky does as he's bid, his eyebrows raising as he flicks through the pictures. One of him with his arm around Steve, their grins wide; one of Steve with his arm around Bucky, engrossed in deep conversation; them both asleep, curled up together on the couch; Bucky laughing, hiding his smile in Steve's hair... There are more, countless more, but he's seen enough. "Okay," he says, "I get your point - but this is still all you. You're all choosing to see this stuff a certain way. And you're _wrong_."

Natasha takes her phone back, flicking over to the second album they'd made. "Are we? Look at this one. Pepper and Tony, me and Clint, Sam and Riley. See anything familiar?"

Bucky glares at her. "So we're a little more handsy than your average best friends. That doesn't mean anything. We grew up together; we're not _in love_."

Natasha raises an eyebrow. "Bucky. You two are far more than 'a little' more handsy than the average best friends. And it's not just the physical touches, its the nicknames, it's the way you orient yourselves around each other whenever you're together."

"We only had each other, growing up," Bucky insists. "It doesn't mean anything!"

Natasha studies him for a moment, then shakes her head. "You had your families, at least. It wasn't just you and Steve against the world - and if it felt like it, it was because you chose to make it that way. I've known you for years, Bucky, you and Steve both. You could've had other friends you could've been close to growing up; you certainly made friends with us easily enough. But you two... You both give _Sam and Riley_ a run for their money in disgustingly perfect couples, and you have from the start. You don't accomplish that without some form of genuine romantic feelings." She gives Bucky a smile then, one of her rare open ones. It's gentle as the hand she reaches over to squeeze his. "Look, I can't force you to acknowledge anything if you're set on being in denial. Maybe you're right, maybe we are all delusional. But even legends have a grain of truth to them, Bucky. Maybe you should think about whether this does too."

Bucky sets his mug down, scrubs a hand over his face. "Fuck," he says. "Fuck."

Natasha just pats his hand.

* * *

Bucky spends the next day and a half with his head up his ass. He knows he owes it to Mark and to Steve and, hell, to himself to think this through and work out what he wants, but it's so hard. He loves Steve, adores him, would die for him in a heartbeat - but they're _best friends_. He's supposed to think more of Steve than he does of anyone else, isn't he? And Mark... Bucky could love Mark, he knows he could. He'd deserve it, too; he's kind and sweet and funny, and he cares about Bucky a lot. So what's holding him back?

He's halfway to an answer and more than halfway to completely smashed out of his mind when his phone beeps with a message. It's from Sarah.

**We would love it if you joined us for New Years, Bucky x**

It's time to open another bottle.

* * *

The doorbell rings at going on eleven o'clock at night on New Year's Eve, and when his mom just looks at him expectantly, Steve rolls his eyes and goes to answer it. 

The last person he's expecting to see is Bucky. He's spent this past week doing his best to think about Bucky as little as possible - a difficult proposition, considering their history, but he's managed reasonably well - and he's absolutely floored when he sees him on the doorstep. "What the hell are you doing here?" comes out without his permission. 

"Uhh," Bucky says. "I was invited? Your mom said you wanted me to come."

Steve opens and closes his mouth before shaking his head and stepping out of the way, letting Bucky in. He turns back to the living room, where he can see Sarah looking pleased beyond reason at herself. He resolves to talk to her later, but for now he turns back to Bucky. "Mom didn't say anything to me, but we were just going to watch the ball drop on TV before going to bed, so I hope you weren't expecting a lot of excitement."

"No," Bucky hastens to assure him. "No, not at all. I-- I can leave?"

Sarah waves a hand. "Don't be ridiculous, Bucky. Why don't you go put your things in Steve's room and then join us for a drink?"

He and Steve seem to realise what this implies at the same time, and Bucky almost kicks himself for not thinking of it sooner. Sarah only has the two bedrooms; unless he takes their ancient sofa, he and Steve are going to have to share. There's nothing he can do about it now, though, so Bucky just walks away without another word.

Steve waits until he's down the hall before he stalks over to the couch. " _Mom,_ " he hisses. "What the _hell?_ "

Sarah doesn't look remotely apologetic. "You need to talk to him," she says, "and you weren't going to do it on your own."

"No, I don't," Steve retorts, "or did you miss the part where he's got a _boyfriend?_ "

Sarah gives him a flat sort of look. "I'm not telling you to suck his dick, Steven," she says bluntly. "But you boys need to be honest with each other about this for once in your lives, and it needs to be now."

" _Mom._ " Steve has to take a moment to get the flush that's taken over his face under control. "I just - I don't see why we have to talk about _this_ thing. It's a moot point, and I was going back this weekend anyway."

"Are you going to make me drag him in here so that I can have this conversation for you?" Sarah demands. "Because I will, Steve. I'll tell him everything."

"No!" Steve says sharply, then glares. "Fine, Jesus. I'll go talk to him, but if he bolts after this, I'm drinking all the booze in the house."

"I'll help you," Sarah says seriously. She gestures to the door. "Go on."

Steve gives her one more petulant look for good measure before he does as bid, squaring his shoulders as he moves down the hall to knock on the door Bucky had disappeared behind. 

Bucky calls for Steve to enter, and then turns to give him a quizzical look. "This is your room," he says, "you don't need to knock."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure you were... Okay, I guess. With me coming in. Don't know if you might have wanted a couple of minutes to yourself." He's starting to ramble and knows it, so Steve takes a deep breath, and then the plunge. "I need to tell you something."

Bucky's eyes widen. "So do I," he says, before he can really stop himself. "Go on."

Steve stalls for a moment, stepping into the room and out of the way of the open door, leaving an escape route - for Bucky, he tells himself, but Steve knows he'll be the first one out that door if this goes sideways. "I uh, this is something I maybe should've told you a while ago, but... There's a reason that everyone thought we were in love. I was. Am." He swallows hard, then clarifies, "With you, I mean."

Bucky stares at him. "You're in love with me?" he demands. "How long?"

Steve winced at Bucky's tone, but he's committed now. "Since... senior year? About then, I don't know. It's not exactly clear, you know, when I went from loving you like my best friend to _loving_ you."

"Steve," Bucky wheezes. "Why didn't you _tell me?_ "

Steve shrugs, arms spread wide a bit self-consciously. "Because I was scared, because I thought you were straight, because I didn't want to change anything that we already had? Take your pick."

"Oh my god," Bucky breathes, and sits down heavily on Steve's bed. "Nat was right."

That... is not what Steve was expecting. "About what?" he asks, tentative. 

"She knows," Bucky tells him. "So does Mark, Christ. I've been so blind."

Steve feels his heart drop down somewhere around his toes. "Oh. I, uh, I'm sorry. I can - I don't know, I can maybe... stop? Or, I could stay here for a while longer, classes don't start for another couple of weeks, Mom won't mind having me here - "

"Steve," Bucky cuts him off. "Don't. Please don't stay here, and _please_ don't stop."

Steve manages to stop talking, but now he's just more confused than ever. "I don't understand," he says. "Mark - "

Bucky winces. "I know," he says. He takes a breath. "Mark called me a few days ago, told me to take some time to work out what I really want. And he's great, he really is. But..."

Steve's not sure what his heart is doing, if it's trying to sink into his stomach or leap into his throat, but he manages to get out, "But?"

"He's not you," Bucky tells him helplessly. "I don't know how I didn't see it before, but goddamn it, Steve, I love you so much."

Steve freezes then, and his heart's decided to lodge itself in his throat, because he has to work to get his next words out. "You - You're sure?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Trust me, pal, I've been scared out of my mind all week. It's you. Far as I can tell, it's always been you."

All Steve can do for several heartbeats is stare, and then he carefully steps forward. "Yeah?" he asks, unable to shake the feeling that this is all a dream, that he and his mom did drink all the booze in the house and now he's going to wake up any moment with an awful hangover. 

Bucky stands and slowly walks over to Steve, but he stalls, not quite brave enough to close the last few inches until he can press himself into Steve's arms the way he wants to. "Steve," he says, and his goddamn hands are shaking. "Stevie. It's you."

Steve doesn't miss the way Bucky's hands shake, and he takes another deep breath before he reaches out to pull Bucky in. He honestly can't remember the last time they hugged, and once he's finally got Bucky back in his arms, that realization hits like a ton of bricks and it takes everything Steve has not to start tearing up. Instead, he just holds Bucky tighter. 

Bucky holds on just as tight, his face hidden in Steve's shoulder, and when they finally find it in themselves to pull back, Bucky keeps him close, looks up so that their noses brush. Steve's eyes have a little green in them; he's stunning. "I love you," Bucky breathes. "This is what I want."

Steve's breath catches in his throat, and it takes him a moment to get it to cooperate so he can say, "You know how stubborn I am; you sure? I'm not going to give you up easily."

"Good," Bucky says. "I don't want you to ever give me up."

Steve smiles, but it disappears when he remembers, "What about Mark?"

Bucky grimaces. "I need to tell him," he admits. "I worked it out and then your mom texted, so I came straight here. But I think he already knows."

Steve nods. "Okay." He bites his lip, then admits, "I really want to kiss you right now."

Bucky lets out a shaky breath. "Is it awful that I really want to let you?"

Steve hesitates, but shrugs. "You said you thought he already knew, and you're not planning to stay with him, are you?"

"No," Bucky says. "He's a good guy, but no. God no, I'm yours, if you'll have me."

Steve nods. "I wouldn't feel right, doing more until you've told him, but..." He shrugs then, a rueful smile twisting his lips. "I still really really want to kiss you. Just once?"

Bucky glances down to Steve's mouth, wets his own lips like he can't quite stop himself. "Just once," he agrees.

Steve bites his lip, hesitating another moment before he leans in, slowly so that Bucky has a chance to change his mind. He doesn't, though, and a moment later their lips touch, and Steve can't help but breathe out a gentle sigh, head tilting as every part of him thinks, _Finally._

It's not a tentative kiss, not unsure in the way that perhaps it should be; they've never done this before, but right now it feels like the only thing they haven't done, like the natural next step in the progression of their relationship, and it comes as easy as breathing. Bucky brings one hand up to Steve's face, the other to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and lets himself get lost in the taste and feel of his best friend. "Oh," he laughs, after, soft and barely there, and reels Steve back in.

Steve lets him, allows the second, third, and fourth kisses, but eventually he manages to get his self-control back. He stops Bucky when he tries to go in for another kiss; they're both breathing heavy, not quite panting, and Bucky's lips are so _damn_ inviting... But he has to put a stop to this now, or they're going to go too far for Steve to feel right about. "Bucky - Bucky, stop. Hang on a moment, okay?"

"Steve," Bucky complains, and he's not actually whining, but it's a near thing. "Think of all the time we've wasted. _Years_ , Steve."

Steve can't help his smile, but he still shakes his head. "Not until after you talk to Mark," he says firmly. 

Bucky groans and pulls away. "I could call him?" he suggests, but he doesn't mean it. "I hate this."

Steve shakes his head again, smile fond. "You can tell him tomorrow. I know you can be that patient, at least."

But Bucky shakes his head, looking beyond sorry. "He deserves to hear this face-to-face," he says, "and he's gone home to his family this weekend. A few days at least."

Steve nods. "Okay. But we have time, alright? It's not the end of the world that we have to wait a few more days."

"Don't ask me to stop kissing you," Bucky says, drawing closer again. "I have some self-restraint, but not that much."

Steve hesitates, torn. "Bucky..."

"We've already done it," Bucky points out. "If we're assholes for kissing once, that's not going to get less if we don't do it again. I'm not screwing around behind his back; I don't want to do that. But I've chosen _you_."

Steve hesitates for a moment more, but then he sighs. "Nothing more than kissing," he says firmly. 

"I promise," Bucky says, and he means it. "I don't want to hurt Mark any more than I have to."

Steve nods. "Okay. Want to come out to the living room and tell Mom we don't need to drink all the booze in the house because you're running away?"

Bucky laughs. "Was that the plan?"

"If you bolted after I confessed I was in love with you, yeah," Steve admits. 

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," Bucky promises, his eyes bright. "So how about we celebrate instead of going on a bender?"

Steve beams. "I think that sounds like an amazing idea."

* * *

Sarah seems much more pleased at the prospect of drinking the house dry in celebration, and Steve honestly can't blame her. They stay up until the ball drops on the television, cheering along with the people still in New York City, and then Sarah heads to bed and Steve and Bucky take their last beers back to Steve's bedroom. Steve feels like he's floating on air - definitely partly the booze's fault - as he settles on top of the bed, Bucky immediately curling into him once he's settled. "Comfy?" he asks quietly, voice fond. 

Bucky hums, rubs his cheek against Steve's arm. "Missed this," he admits quietly. "Missed you so much, Stevie."

Steve smiles, settling more comfortably against the pillows and wrapping his arm around Bucky. "I did, too," he admits quietly. "But now we can do this whenever we want."

Bucky grins. "We can, can't we?" he muses. "I can't believe it."

Steve chuckles. "Same here," he murmurs, sleep pulling at him more and more insistently as he says aside his beer after draining it. "We should get some sleep. It's been a long day."

Bucky sighs, handing his beer over to Steve without finishing the dregs and struggling to sit up. "Guess I should go back to the couch."

"Why?" Steve asks, not letting go of Bucky just yet. "M'bed's plenty comfy."

Bucky laughs. "Thought we were supposed to be being good."

Steve rolls his eyes. "We used to sleep in the same bed whenever you stayed over," he points out. 

"We weren't in love then," Bucky says. "Well, not officially."

Steve can't help laughing quietly at the word choice. "No, but does it make that much of a difference now? We're just going to sleep."

Bucky feels like he should protest, but he's too tired and comfortable to move. "Okay," he says. "You'd better be the big spoon."

Steve grins, helping Bucky squirm around until they're under the covers. "Of course," he says, gathering him into his arms. 

Bucky sighs, sleepy and content in a way that goes bone-deep like he hasn't felt in years. "I love you," he says. "I really fucking love you."

Steve smiles against the back of Bucky's neck, arms tightening just a bit more. "I love you, too," he replies, laughter and fondness clear in his voice. "Now go the fuck to sleep."

Bucky's eyes are already closing, but his smile is still firmly in place. What a way to start the new year.

* * *

"Babe?" Bucky calls as soon as he enters the apartment, and then curses when his keys clatter to the floor.

It's taken them almost six months to get rid of the stupid table that Steve couldn't see when they first moved in, and it's going to take another six months for Bucky to get used to it being gone. He only agreed to get rid of it in the first place because Steve broke it trying to jump him when he got back from telling Mark. Mark had been disappointed but ultimately unsurprised, and he'd taken it well. Bucky found out a few days ago that he's seeing someone new and that it's pretty serious, so he guesses it all worked out for the best. He knows it definitely did for him, anyway.

"Babe," Bucky continues, once he's snatched his keys up from the floor and hung them on one of the nifty little hooks Steve put up last week after they finally lost the table. "What time do we need to be at the airport tomorrow? Clint asked if we could drop him off at-- Oh." He cuts himself off when he walks into the living room and finds, not Steve, but a slight brunette woman sitting on their couch. "I guess I'll tell him no," he says stupidly.

The woman turns, and smiles brightly when she sees him. "Hello James."

Steve comes out of the kitchen with a couple of glasses of water, passing one off to the woman before coming to Bucky's side. "Clint will just have to find another ride," he agrees, pressing a kiss to Bucky's cheek and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Bucky, this is Peggy. Peggy, this is Bucky - my boyfriend." In his words, pride and affection are unmistakable. 

Peggy beams. "It's lovely to finally meet you," she says. "Sorry about the change of plans; I wanted to surprise Steve."

"You did me a favour," Bucky tells her, giving Steve a squeeze. "He's been a nervous wreck all week."

Steve laughs easily, because it's true. "Hey, it's a big deal, having my other best friend finally come visit."

"Well, you didn't have a spare room until recently," Peggy says, her eyes twinkling as she looks between Steve and Bucky. "Although something tells me you wouldn't have minded sharing together for the duration of my stay."

"Might have pulled our heads out of our asses a lot sooner if you'd visited before now," Bucky agrees. His smile is soft when he looks at Steve. "But I think we did okay."


End file.
